1 1 


SECTION    111 

General  Editor 

.GEO.RBAKER 


HtC 


UNIV6RSITY  OF 
CALIFOtNIA 
SAN  OIECK) 


LONDON  BOOK  CO 

224  W.  Broadway 
Glendale,  Calif.  91204 


LONDON 


filendale,  Calif. 
:  CI  4-0 


SECTION  III 

THE  ENGLISH  DRAMA 

FROM    ITS    BEGINNING    TO    THE    PRESENT    DAY 


GENERAL    EDITOR 

GEORGE  PIERCE  BAKER 

PROFESSOR    OF    ENGLISH    IN 
HARVARD    UNIVERSITY 


THE   BLACKPRIARS'   THEATRE 

Kifrtdusid  by  ftrminitn  frtm  the  iclltftitn  •/ 
£.  tiardnrr,  i(y.,  Ltndon. 


THE 
MAID'S    TRAGEDY 


AND 


PHILASTER 


EDITED    BY 

ASHLEY  H.  THORNDIKE,   PH.D. 

PROFESSOR  OF  ENGLISH   LITERATURE  IN 
NORTHWESTERN  UNIVERSITY 


BOSTON,  U.S.A.,  AND  LONDON 

D.   C.   HEATH  &  CO.,  PUBLISHERS 
1906 


COFYRIGHT,    1906,    BY    D.    C.   HEATH    *   CO. 
ALL    RIGHTS    RESERVED 


FRANCIS  BEAUMONT,  third  son  of  Sir  Francis  Beaumont  of 
Grace  Dieu  in  Leicestershire,  one  of  the  Justices  of  Common  Pleas, 
was  born  about  1585  and  died  March  6,  1616.  He  was  admitted 
gentleman  commoner  at  Broadgates  Hall,  Oxford,  in  1597,  and 
was  entered  at  the  Inner  Temple,  London,  November  3,  1600. 
He  was  married  to  Ursula,  daughter  of  Henry  Isley  of  Sundridge, 
Kent,  probably  in  1613,  and  left  two  daughters  (one  a  posthumous 
child).  He  was  buried  in  Westminster  Abbey. 

JOHN  FLETCHER,  son  of  Richard  Fletcher,  Bishop  of  London, 
was  baptized  at  Rye  in  Suisex,  where  his  father  was  then  minister, 
December  20,  1579,  and  died  of  the  plague  in  August,  1625. 
He  was  entered  as  a  pensioner  at  Bene't  College,  Cambridge,  1591. 
His  father  as  Dean  of  Peterborough  attended  Mary  Queen  of 
Scots  at  Fotheringay,  and  was  kter  rapidly  promoted  to  the  sees  of 
Bristol,  Worcester,  and  London.  Handsome  of  person  and  elo- 
quent of  speech,  he  was  a  successful  courtier  and  a  favorite  of  the 
Queen,  though  he  suffered  a  loss  of  favor  shortly  before  his  death 
in  1596.  The  dramatist  received  by  bequest  a  share  in  his  father's 
books,  but  apparently  little  other  property.  He  was  buried  August 
29,  1625,  in  Saint  Saviour's,  Southwark. 

The  biographical  details  of  the  friendship  and  collaboration  of  the 
two  dramatists  are  involved  in  uncertainty.  It  is  not  known  just 
when  Fletcher  came  to  London,  when  he  began  writing  plays,  or 
when  he  first  became  acquainted  with  Beaumont.  D'Avenant  in 
a  prologue  at  a  revival  of  the  Woman  Hater,  evidently  alluding  to 
Fletcher,  declares  that  "full  twenty  years  he  wore  the  bays." 
This  would  place  the  beginning  of  his  play -writing  in  1604-05, 


vi  15tograpt)v 

a  date  for  which  considerable  other  evidence  has  been  accumulated. x 
In  1607,  both  he  and  Beaumont  prefixed  verses  to  Volpont  (acted 
1605).  Beaumont  praises  Jonson  for  teaching  "  our  tongue  the 
rules  of  time,  of  place,"  and  both  appear  as  Jonson's  friends.  In 
1607,  then,  they  were  well  acquainted  with  Jonson  and  probably 
with  each  other.  Beaumont  wrote  commendatory  verses  for 
Epicaenc  (1609  ?)  and  both  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  for  Catiline 
(1611).  Beaumont  also  wrote  commendatory  verses,  together 
with  Jonson,  Chapman,  and  Field,  for  Fletcher's  Faithful  Shep- 
herdess (410  1609?)  The  Woman  Hater,  probably  by  Beaumont 
alone,  was  published  anonymously,  1607.  Beaumont's  oft-quoted 
epistle  to  Jonson  is  entitled  in  the  1679  folio,  "  written  before  he 
and  Master  Fletcher  came  to  London  with  two  of  the  precedent 
comedies,  then  not  finished,  which  deferred  their  merry  meetings  at 
the  Mermaid."  The  reference  in  the  letter  to  Sutcliffe's  wit  seems 
to  refer  to  the  pamphlets  produced  by  him  in  1606.  In  1610, 
Davies*  Scourge  of  Folly  was  registered,  containing  an  epigram  on 
Phi/aster.  In  1612,  in  the  address  to  the  reader  prefixed  to  the 
White  Devil,  Webster  praises  "  the  no  less  worthy  composures  of 
the  both  worthily  excellent  Master  Beaumont  and  Master  Fletcher," 
ranking  them  on  equal  terms  with  such  scholars  and  experienced 
dramatists  as  Chapman  and  Jonson,  and  apparently  above  Shaks- 
pere,  Dekker,  and  Heywood.  Before  1612,  the  reputation  of 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher  as  dramatists  must  have  been  well  estab- 
lished. 

Only  three  plays  in  which  Beaumont  had  a  share  were  published 
before  his  death,  the  Woman  Hater,  1607,  the  Knight  of  the 
Burning  Pestle,  1613,  and  Cupid's  Revenge,  1615;  and  none  of 
these  appeared  with  his  name.  In  addition  to  his  plays,  he  wrote 
verses  to  the  Countess  of  Rutland,  and  elegies  on  the  Lady  Mark- 
ham,  who  died  in  1609,  the  Countess  of  Rutland,  who  died  in 

I  See  Thi  Infutnct  «/  B.  lament  and  Fltuhtr  on  Shahpert,  A.  H. 
Thorn  dike. 


1612,  and  Lady  Penelope  Clifton,  who  died  in  1613.  Salmacis 
and  HermaphrodituSj  1 602,  may  possibly  have  been  written  by  him  ; 
it  is  so  assigned  in  the  entry  of  1639  in  the  Stationer's  Register. 
In  1613,  he  wrote  a  masque  for  the  Lady  Elizabeth's  marriage, 
which  was  performed  with  great  splendor  by  the  gentlemen  of  the 
Inner  Temple  and  Gray's  Inn,  and  published,  presumably  in  the 
same  year.  There  is  no  direct  evidence  that  he  wrote  anything  for 
the  stage  after  1612. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  Beaumont's  reputation  as  a  poet  was 
very  high  even  before  his  death.  He  was  buried  in  Westminster 
Abbey  close  by  Chaucer  and  Spenser  ;  and  the  verses  on  Shakspere, 
usually  attributed  to  William  Basse,  bid 

Renowned  Spencer  lye  a  thought  more  nye 

To  learned  Chaucer,  and  rare  Beaumont  lye 

A  little  nearer  Spenser,  to  make  roome 

For  Shakespeare  in  your  threefold,  fowerfold  Tombe, 

To  lodge  all  fowre  in  one  bed  make  a  shift 

Until  Doomesdaye,  for  hardly  will  a  fift 

Betwixt  this  day  and  that  by  Fate  be  slayne 

For  whom  your  curtaines  may  be  drawn  againe. 

Of  Fletcher's  life  after  Beaumont's  withdrawal  from  the  stage, 
our  information  is  derived  mainly  from  studies  of  the  chronology  of 
his  plays  and  of  his  relations  to  collaborators.  There  is  no  trace  of 
any  discord  between  him  and  any  of  his  fellows  ;  and  his  continued 
friendship  with  Ben  Jonson  is  testified  to  by  the  latter  in  his  Conver- 
sations -with  Drummond  and  by  the  commendatory  verses  of  William 
Brome.1  In  1612-13,  m  ^c  opinion  of  the  present  writer,2  he 
was  engaged  with  Shakspere  in  direct  collaboration  on  Henry  fill, 
the  Two  Noble  Kinsmen,  and,  perhaps,  the  non-extant  Cardcnio. 
From  this  time  on,  he  wrote  three  or  four  plays  each  year,  collab- 
orating on  many  of  these  with  Massinger.  A  communication  of 

I   Pre6xed  to  Folio,  1647. 

Z   The  Influence  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  on  Shalifere,  pp.  35-56. 


v 

about  this  date  from  Field,  Daborne,  and  Massinger  to  Henslow 
alludes  to  a  "  play  of  Mr.  Fletcher  and  ours."  Before  1616  he 
wrote  for  various  companies,  but  after  that  date  so  far  as  can  be  dis- 
covered, exclusively  for  the  King's  Men.  Only  ten  plays  in  which 
he  or  Beaumont  had  a  share  were  printed  before  his  death:  five 
with  his  name, — the  Faithful  Shepherdess,  1609  (?);  Cupid*! 
Revenge,  1615;  the  Scornful  Lady,  16165  ^  K'"g  ana  No 
King,  1619;  Phi/aster,  1620,  '22  (the  last  three  "by  F. 
Beaumont  and  J.  Fletcher"):  four  anonymously, — the  Woman 
Hater,  1607,  the  Knight  of  the  Burning  P title,  1613  ;  the 
Maid't  Tragedy,  1619,  '22;  Thierry  and  Theodoret,  1621  ;  and 
one  in  the  Shakspere  Folio,  1623,  Henry  fill. 

There  is  abundant  testimony  to  the  great  popularity  of  Fletcher's 
plays  during  his  lifetime ;  and  the  Beaumont-Fletcher  folio  of 
1 647,  containing  plays  not  hitherto  printed,  was  accompanied  by  a 
formidable  array  of  commendatory  verses.  The  literary  reputation 
of  the  two  friends  can  be  judged  from  the  fact  that  either  during 
their  lives  or  after  their  deaths,  their  praises  were  heralded  by  Jon- 
son,  Chapman,  Webster,  Waller,  Denham,  Lovelace,  Cartwright, 
Herrick,  Brome,  and  Shirley. 

The  following  list '  includes  all  the  plays  in  which  either  Beau- 
mont or  Fletcher  had  a  share,  arranged  in  a  conjecturally  chrono- 
logical order.  The  year  of  the  first  performance  is  given,  this  co- 
inciding presumably  with  the  time  of  composition.  The  exact  date 
of  many  of  the  plays  cannot  be  determined,  and  matters  of  date  and 
authorship  are  in  debate.  Beaumont  is  not  generally  credited  by 
critics  with  a  share  in  any  of  the  plays  of  the  second  period  nor 
with  If  Oman's  Prize,  Monsieur  Thomas,  or  the  Faithful  Shep- 
herdess of  the  first  period. 

I    Thi  Infuimi  if  Biaumtnt  and  Flitchtr  «n  Skatiftn,  pp.  92-9}. 


IX 


FIRST  PERIOD. 

Woman's  Prize  ;  or,  The  Tamer  Tamea. 

Wit  at  Several  Weapons.    First  version. 

The  Woman  Hater. 

Love's  Cure,  or  The  Martial  Maid. 

Thierry  and  Theodoret. 

Monsieur  Thomas. 

The  Knight  of  The  Burning  Pestle. 

Four  Plays  in  One. 

The  Faithful  Shepherdess. 

Philaster  ;   or  Love  lies  a-bleeding. 

The  Coxcomb. 

The  Maid's  Tragedy. 

Cupid's  Revenge. 

The  Scornful  Lady. 

A  King  and  No  King. 

The  Captain. 

SECOND  PERIOD. 

The  Nice  Valour  ,•  or  the  Passionate  Madman. 

The  Night  Walker;   or  the  Little  Thief. 

The  Beggar's  Bush. 

Gardenia.     (Non-extant.) 

The  Mask  of  The  Inner  Temple. 

The  Tivo  Noble  Kinsmen. 

Henry  VIII. 

The  Honest  Man's  Fortune. 

Wit  Without  Money. 

Love' s  Pilgrimage. 

The  Faithful  Friends. 

The  Chances. 

Bonduca. 

Valentinian. 

The  Jeweller  of  Amsterdam. 

The  Bloody  Brother ,-  or  Rolloy  Duke  of  Normandy. 

The  Queen  of  Corinth. 

The  Loyal  Subject. 


1604? 

1605  ? 

1606  ? 
1606? 

1 607  ? 
1607-8? 
1607-8  ? 

1608? 

1608? 

1608? 

1 609  ? 

1609  ? 

1609—10  ? 

1610-11 ? 

1611 

1611  ? 


1612?? 

1612?? 

1612?? 

1612-13 

1613 

1613  ? 

1613  ? 
1613 

1614  ? 
1614? 

1614  ? 

1615  ? 
1615  ? 

1615-16  ? 
1616-17  ? 

1617?? 

c  1617 
1618 


x  HBwgrapln? 

The  Mad  Lover.  c  1618 

The  Knight  of  Malta.  c  1618 

THIRD  PERIOD. 

The  Humourous  Lieutenant.  c  1619  ? 

&r  John  van  Olden  Barnaveldt.  1619  ? 


The  Custom  of  the  Country. 

The  Double  Marriage. 

The  LOTUS  of  Candy. 

The  Little  French  Lawyer. 

The  False  One. 

Woman  Pleased. 

The  Island  Princest. 

The  Pilgrim. 

The  Wild  Goose  Chase. 


1619 
1619 
1619 
1620 
1620 
1620 
1620 
1621 
1621 


The  Prophetest.  1622 

The  Sea  Voyage.  1622 

The  Spanish  Curate.  1622 

The  Maid  in  The  Mill.  1623 

The  Lover's  Progress  (The  Wandering  Lovers).  1623 

The  Fair  Maid  of  The  Inn.  1623-4 

A  Wife  for  a  Month.  1624 

Rule  a  Wife  and  Have  a  Wife.  1 624 

The  Noble  Gentleman.  1625  ? 

Coronation.  1625  ?? 

The  Elder  Brother.  1624-5  ?  ? 

The   Devil   of  Dowgate  and  the  Unfortunate   Piety  are  non- 
extant  and  it  is  not  certain  that  Fletcher  had  any  share  in  them. 


SlnttoDuctton 

THE  first  plays  by  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  were  not 
written  earlier  than  1 604,  in  1612  Beaumont  appar- 
ently ceased  to  write  for  the  stage,  and  in  1616  he 
died.  The  brief  period  of  their  collaboration  thus  came 
at  the  climacteric  of  the  astonishingly  rapid  and  varied 
development  of  the  Elizabethan  drama.  Thirty  years 
before  they  began,  there  had  been  no  theatre ;  barely 
twenty  years  before,  Shakespeare  had  first  obtained 
employment  with  a  London  company  of  actors  ;  but  the 
public  that  had  then  been  satisfied  with  the  doggerel 
and  personified  abstractions  of  Wilson's  comedies  was 
by  1604  able  to  enjoy  the  exquisite  fun  and  sentiment 
of  Twelfth  Night  and  the  clever  caricatures  of  Every 
Man  in  His  Humour.  The  same  dramatist  who  had 
compiled  Titus  Andronicus  was  writing  Othello,  and 
the  development  of  Shakespeare's  genius  had  been  par- 
alleled by  the  general  progress  of  dramatic  art.  The 
material  prosperity,  social  status,  and  literary  standing 
of  the  drama  had  also  greatly  improved,  and  play- 
wrights were  frequently  gentlemen  and  scholars  who 
brought  to  their  work  courtly  or  critical  tastes,  de- 
manding new  aims  and  new  methods  in  art.  It  was 
recognized  that  the  path  for  future  progress  was  illumi- 
nated by  the  masterpieces  of  the  past  and  present,  but 
there  was  no  suspicion  that  the  highest  point  had  been 
attained,  rather  a  cry  for  advance  and  divergence. 


xii  Introduction 

The  early  drama  had  been  nothing  if  not  popular, 
but  by  the  first  decade  of  the  seventeenth  century  the 
dramatists  themselves  were  chafing  under  the  whims  of  an 
illiterate  audience  and  turning  to  the  cultivated  or  courtly 
for  support.  Their  appeal  came  to  be  less  and  less  to 
the  crowd  in  the  pit  and  more  to  the  gentles  who  wit- 
nessed the  performances  at  court  or  sat  on  the  stage 
in  the  public  theatres.  Thus  Webster  excuses  the 
defects  of  the  White  Devil  as  a  true  dramatic  poem 
because  "  the  breath  that  comes  from  the  incapable 
multitude  is  able  to  poison  .  .  .  the  most  sententious 
tragedy  that  ever  was  written."  So  Jonson  dedicates 
plays  to  "  the  special  fountain  of  manners,  the  Court," 
"  to  the  noblest  nurseries  of  humanity  and  liberty  in 
the  kingdom,  the  Inns  of  Court,"  and  "  to  the  most 
noble  and  most  equal  sisters,  the  two  most  famous  uni- 
versities." Instances  of  this  sort  could  be  multiplied 
from  prologues  and  dedications  ;  and  further  evidence 
of  the  growing  influence  of  courtly  and  cultivated  pat- 
ronage may  be  found  in  the  success  of  the  private  theatres 
with  their  higher  prices  and  exclusive  audiences,  and 
also  in  the  influence  of  courtly  manners  and  courtly 
entertainments  on  the  public  stage. 

In  some  important  respects  this  change  in  the  character 
of  patronage  pointed  towards  decadence.  In  appealing 
to  the  populace,  the  early  drama  had  always  been  patri- 
otic and  usually  moral,  but  the  later  drama  turned  to 
a  court  that  possessed  neither  a  national  spirit  nor  moral 
decency.  The  vulgar  crowd  that  delighted  to  see  the 
field  of  Agincourt  within  the  wooden  O  was  a  sounder 
moral  guide  than  the  wits  who  relished  the  double  en- 


3fjntro&uction  xiii 

tendre  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  courtiers,  and  the 
apprentice  who  approved  of  Old  Fortunatus  was  per- 
haps as  good  a  guide  to  vital  worth  in  literature  as  the 
gentleman  of  fashion  who  accepted  the  dedication  of 
one  of  Chapman's  comedies.  A  corrupt  and  shameless 
court  and  its  hangers-on  was  henceforth  to  patronize 
the  drama  and  to  furnish  it  with  both  subjects  for  satire 
and  ideals  of  conduct,  while  the  increasing  Puritanism 
was  to  widen  the  breach  between  the  people  and  the 
stage.  The  moral  decadence  that  resulted  was,  how- 
ever, by  no  means  foreseen  ;  it  was  rather  in  desire  for 
both  moral  and  aesthetic  refinement  that  the  dramatists 
began  to  ridicule  the  taste  of  the  vulgar  and  portray  the 
manners  of  men  of  the  world,  to  refuse  the  plaudits 
of  the  idle  apprentices  and  seek  those  of  the  no  less  idle 
young  gentlemen  of  the  Inns  of  Court. 

The  early  drama  again  had  been  anything  but  crit- 
ical. Though  Plautus  and  Seneca  were  its  models, 
knowledge  of  the  classical  drama  was  not  sufficiently 
general  or  thorough  to  afford  effectual  criticism  ;  while 
the  demands  of  the  audiences  at  the  public  theatres 
forced  a  complete  adaptation  of  classical  models  and  a 
neglect  of  classical  precepts.  Criticism  was  offered  by 
outsiders  with  literary  ideals  like  Sidney  or  by  moral 
objecters  like  Gosson,  but  the  dramatists  pursued  then- 
way  unheedingly,  meeting  the  limitations  of  a  bare 
stage,  the  tastes  of  a  motley  audience,  and  the  varied 
artistic  impulses  of  the  Elizabethan  Renaissance  by 
means  of  the  freest  experimentation.  The  early  years 
were,  therefore,  the  time  of  experiment,  of  the  multi- 
plication and  the  confusion  of  types,  and  of  an  increas- 


xiv  7  mroDurtton 

ing  disregard  of  rule  and  precedent ;  but  by  the  end  of 
the  century  the  knowledge  of  the  classical  drama  had 
increased  and  was  possessed  by  men  capable  of  apply- 
ing it  to  their  own  work.  The  drama  was  established 
as  a  national,  indigenous,  and  poetical  form  of  litera- 
ture ;  there  could  be  no  danger,  as  there  had  been  in 
the  days  of  Gorboduc,  of  a  return  to  mere  classical  imi- 
tation ;  but  there  was  opportunity  for  consideration, 
criticism,  and  new  departures.  Jonson  and  Webster 
recognized  in  their  prefaces  the  impossibility  of  classical 
regularity  in  the  face  of  audiences  accustomed  to  other 
methods,  and  both  paid  hearty  tribute  to  the  genius  of 
their  predecessors,  but,  although  the  merits  of  preceding 
plays  were  recognized  and  adopted,  their  absurdities 
were  by  this  time  apparent  and  were  to  be  hooted  out 
of  court.  Instead  of  a  hap-hazard  representation  of  life, 
the  drama  was  henceforth  to  be  supplied  with  definite 
aims  and  definite  methods  and  rules.  This  criticism 
prepared  the  way  for  a  loss  of  spontaneity  and  initiative, 
but  no  decadence  was  manifest  in  the  ideals  proposed 
by  Jonson  ;  and  it  was  as  his  disciples  that  Beaumont 
and  Fletcher  began  their  work.  They  and  the  other 
dramatists  were  charged  by  Jonson  to  be  conscious 
of  high  aims  and  of  their  duty  as  artists,  to  be  able  to 
declare  with  him  in  his  dedication  of  Volpone :  "1 
have  laboured  for  their  instruction  and  amendment,  to 
reduce  not  only  the  ancient  forms,  but  manners  of  the 
scene,  the  easiness,  the  propriety,  the  innocence,  and 
last,  the  doctrine,  which  is  the  principle  end  of  poesie, 
to  inform  men  in  the  best  reason  of  living."  Working 
still  for  a  popular  stage  and  limited  by  the  demands  of 


31ntroDuction  xv 

the  theatres,  they  were  to  study  past  achievement  crit- 
ically, attend  to  purpose,  method,  and  rule,  and  advance 
to  new  achievement  with  a  finer  and  more  thorough 
realization  of  their  duties  and  opportunities  than  their 
predecessors  had  known. 

Gentlemen  by  birth,  attached  to  the  court  rather 
than  the  people,  trained  by  their  own  education  and 
their  association  with  Jonson  to  a  consciousness  of  their 
art,  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  naturally  viewed  the  plays  of 
their  predecessors  with  critical,  though  doubtless  appre- 
ciative minds.  That  they  admired  much  is  indicated 
by  the  freedom  with  which  they  borrowed  situations, 
ideas,  or  types  of  character  from  Jonson,  Shakespeare, 
or  another  ;  but,  though  they  did  not  remain  Jonsonian 
realists  or  pay  over-much  heed  to  classical  rules  or 
precedents,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  they  were  in 
full  sympathy  with  the  struggle  for  a  more  cultivated 
audience  and  a  more  critical  art.  The  importance  of 
their  relation  to  this  new  movement  may  be  seen  by 
reference  to  certain  types  of  plays  which  they  avoided 
as  well  as  by  reference  to  those  types  that  they  intro- 
duced or  developed. 

Chronicle-history  plays  were  condemned  by  the 
critical  group  because  of  their  absurd  violations  of  the 
unities  and  because  of  the  incongruities  between  their 
material,  —  battles,  pageants,  coronations,  depositions, 
—  and  the  inadequate  facilities  and  few  actors  of  the 
Elizabethan  theatre.  Chronicle-history  in  fact  had  run 
its  course  and  was  approaching  a  natural  death.  In  the 
prologue  to  Henry  V  Shakespeare  frankly  acknowledged 
the  absurdities  of  the  genre  at  the  same  time  that  Jon- 


xvi  jhitrouumon 

son  was  vigorously  ridiculing  it  in  the  prologue  of 
Every  Man  in  His  Humour.  These  two  critical  de- 
clarations were  its  valedictory,  although  Shakespeare 
himself,  working  with  stories  from  English  chronicles 
and  employing  many  of  the  methods  which  he  had 
used  earlier,  developed  the  chronicle-history  into  Mac- 
beth and  Lear,  and  later  joined  with  Fletcher  in  a 
revival  of  the  old  type  in  Henry  VIII.  Beaumont  and 
Fletcher  in  their  collaboration  made  no  use  of  the 
matter  of  the  chronicles  or  of  the  methods  or  spectacles 
of  the  chronicle  play. 

In  a  similar  way  the  revenge  tragedy  reached  its 
culmination  at  the  time  when  the  critical  were  ready  to 
scoff  at  it.  The  story  of  blood  vengeance,  directed  by 
a  ghost  and  performed  with  hesitation  and  bewilder- 
ment by  a  philosophically  inclined  protagonist,  had 
been  introduced  and  popularized  by  Kyd  in  the  Spanish 
Tragedy,  but  the  dramatists  themselves  did  not  awake 
to  the  crudities  of  the  type  until  many  of  them  had 
used  it  and  Shakespeare  had  transformed  it  into  Hamlet. 
Then  Ben  Jonson  was  ready  to  ridicule  the  raging 
Hieronimo,1  to  whose  part  he  had  previously,  in  his 
additions  to  Kyd's  play,  given  a  serious  interpretation 
and  magnificent  poetry.  Hieronimo  and  Hamlet,  too, 
became  the  butts  of  good-natured  fun  from  Beaumont 
and  Fletcher  as  representatives  of  a  class  of  plays  that 
fed  the  taste  of  the  vulgar. 

In  comedy  also  they  departed  from  the  fashion  of 

1  See  Inductions  to  Cynthia 't  Revels,  1601,  and  Bartholomew 
Fair,  1631,  acted  1614.  See  also  the  jokes  on  Hamlet  in  East- 
ward Hoe,  1605. 


3f|ntro&uction 

an  earlier  day.  The  formless  combination  of  a  dozen 
genres  into  something  songful,  witty,  and  entertaining, 
by  no  means  answered  the  views  of  Jonson  : 

But  deeds  and  language  such  as  men  do  use, 
And  persons  such  as  comedy  would  choose, 
When  she  would  shew  an  image  of  the  times, 
And  sport  with  human  follies,  not  with  crimes. 

The  mixture  of  monsters,  mythologies,  sentimental 
couples,  marvellous  escapes,  and  witty  dialogues,  such 
as  had  been  furnished  by  plays  like  Friar  Bacon  and 
Friar  Bungay,  the  Old  Wives  Tale,  or  the  Woman  in 
the  Moon,  was  held  contrary  to  law  and  order  ;  the 
comedy  of  Lyly,  Peele,  and  Greene,  which  had  made 
possible  and  conditioned  the  alluring  romance  of  Arden 
and  Illyria,  was  going  out  of  fashion  and  giving  place 
to  the  realistic  and  satirical  comedies  of  Jonson  and 
Middleton.  It  was  this  realistic  comedy  that  Beaumont 
and  Fletcher  took  as  a  point  of  departure  for  their  sub- 
sequent innovations. 

Some  of  their  earliest  plays  were  experiments  that 
still  further  attest  their  attitude.  Beaumont's  Woman 
Hater  is  a  comedy  in  Jonson' s  manner,  and  his  Knight 
of  the  Burning  Pestle,1  written  under  the  inspiration  of 
Don  Quixote,  is  a  burlesque  on  contemporary  plays 
of  adventure.  Fletcher's  Faithful  Shepherdess  is  an 
attempt  to  replace  the  abortive  pastorals  of  earlier  play- 
wrights by  a  genuine  and  elaborate  pastoral  tragi- 
comedy on  the  model  of  //  Pastor  Fido.  These  plays 
won  the  praise  of  the  critical,  but  the  inimitable  grace 

1  For  a  discussion  of  these  plays  see  the  volume  on  Beaumont 
of  the  Bella  Lettres  Series,  Professor  R.  M.  Alden. 


31ntroimetton 

and  sweetness  of  the  Faithful  Shepherdess  and  the 
abounding  drollery  and  verve  of  the  Burning  Pestle 
were  alike  impotent  to  avert  the  disapproval  of  a  public 
all  unused  to  such  innovations. 

Perhaps  the  failure  of  these  plays  taught  the  young 
poets  their  lesson.  At  all  events  their  other  plays, 
though  they  are  not  less  novel  in  character  and  likewise 
show  an  attachment  to  contemporary  foreign  literature, 
especially  Spanish  novels,  are  characterized  by  an  inti- 
mate knowledge  of  stage-craft  and  a  constant  attention 
to  theatrical  effectiveness.  While  they  afforded  full 
scope  for  the  authors'  dramatic  ingenuity  and  poetical 
imagination,  they  also  succeeded  in  captivating  the 
public.  These  successes  resulted  after  further  develop- 
ment in  two  distinct  classes  of  plays,  the  comedies  and 
the  heroic  romances,  both  of  which  proved  of  vast  im- 
portance in  the  later  history  of  the  drama. 

Their  comedy  —  of  which  the  Scornful  Lady  is  per- 
haps the  best  representative  of  their  collaboration  and 
the  Wild  Goose  Chase  of  Fletcher's  later  development 
—  has  its  resemblances  and  connections  with  preceding 
and  contemporary  plays,  but  it  is  a  distinct  departure 
from  the  humoristic  drama,  and  it  marks  out  a  new 
line  of  development  followed  to  the  close  of  the  Re- 
storation. It  is  a  comedy  of  lively  plot,  dealing  with 
love  as  a  game  and  woman  as  the  quarry,  and  present- 
ing the  manners  of  the  day,  an  overflowing  wit,  and 
no  morals.  Its  full  development  belongs  to  Fletcher's 
later  years.1 

1  For  a  discussion  of  this  comedy  see  the  volume,  Fletcher,  in 
the  Belies  Lettres  Series. 


2flntroimcti0n  xix 

The  romances,  sometimes  tragic  and  sometimes 
tragic-comic,  likewise  drew  much  from  the  contempo- 
rary drama,  but  they  also  mark  important  innovations. 
The  years  1601—1608,  the  period  of  Shakespeare's 
tragedies,  were  also,  as  has  been  noted,  the  time  of  the 
prevalence  of  the  realistic  drama  and  of  the  absence  of 
sentimental  or  romantic  comedy  or  tragi-comedy. 
The  return  to  romance,  heralded  probably  by  Phil- 
aster,1  resulted  in  six  plays  resembling  one  another  and 
forming  the  most  distinctive  product  of  Beaumont  and 
Fletcher's  collaboration.  Other  plays  of  the  collabora- 
tion and  many  later  plays  by  Fletcher  might  be  grouped 
with  these,  but  the  six  will  serve  to  define  the  type  with 
distinctness.  The  six  plays,  Four  Plays  in  One,  Thierry 
and  Tbeodoret,  Philaster,  the  Maid' s  Tragedy,  Cu- 
pid's Revenge,  and  A  King  and  No  King,  resemble 
one  another  so  closely  in  material,  construction,  char- 
acterization, and  style  that  a  single  analysis  will  serve 
for  all. 

Their  plots,  largely  invented,  are  ingenious  and  com- 
plicated. They  deal  with  royal  or  noble  persons,  with 
heroic  actions,  and  are  placed  in  foreign  localities.  The 
conquests,  usurpations,  and  passions  that  ruin  kingdoms 
are  their  themes,  there  are  no  battles  or  pageants,  and 
the  action  is  usually  confined  to  the  rooms  of  the  palace 
or  its  immediate  neighborhood.  Usually  contrasting  a 
story  of  gross  sensual  passion  with  one  of  idyllic  love, 
they  introduce  a  great  variety  of  incidents  and  aim  at 
constant  but  varied  excitement.  Some  of  the  situations 

1  See  The  Influence  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  on  Shakipere,  A.  H. 
Thorndike,  1901. 


xx  JntroUuction 

that  they  use  more  than  once,  indicate  their  general 
character,  —  a  girl,  disguised  as  a  boy,  is  stabbed  by 
the  man  whom  she  loves  ;  a  woman  convicted  of  adul- 
tery brazenly  defies  her  accusers ;  the  hero  is  saved 
from  the  tyrant  by  a  timely  insurrection  of  the  turbu- 
lent populace.  The  tragic,  idyllic,  and  sensational  ma- 
terial is  skilfully  constructed  into  a  number  of  theatrically 
telling  situations,  which  lead  by  a  series  of  surprises 
to  very  effective  climaxes  or  catastrophes.  All  signs  of 
the  epic  methods  of  construction  found  in  the  early 
drama  have  disappeared  ;  there  is  usually  a  chance 
until  the  last  moment  for  either  a  happy  or  an  unhappy 
ending,  and  in  every  case  the  denouement  or  catastro- 
phe is  elaborately  prepared  for  and  complicated.  The 
dramatis  per  son  ae  belong  to  impossible  and  romantic 
situations  rather  than  to  life,  and  are  usually  of  certain 
types,  —  the  sentimental  or  violent  hero  ;  his  faithful 
friend,  a  blunt,  outspoken  soldier ;  the  sentimental 
heroine,  often  a  love-lorn  maiden  disguised  as  a  page 
that  she  may  serve  the  hero  ;  the  evil  woman  defiant  in 
her  crimes  ;  and  the  poltroon,  usually  a  comic  person- 
age. With  the  addition  of  a  king,  some  gentlemen  and 
ladies  of  the  court,  and  a  few  persons  from  the  lower 
ranks,  the  cast  is  complete.  The  plays  depend  for  in- 
terest not  on  their  observation  or  revelation  of  human 
nature,  or  the  development  of  character,  but  on  the 
variety  of  situations,  the  clever  construction  that  holds 
the  interest  through  one  suspense  to  another  up  to  the 
unravelling  at  the  very  end,  and  on  the  naturalness, 
felicity,  and  vigor  of  the  poetry. 

Such  a  summary  is  perhaps  enough  to  suggest  both 


3flntroDuetion  xxi 

the  authors'  indebtedness  to  preceding  drama  and  their 
departures  and  contributions.  Their  indebtedness  may 
be  seen  in  some  of  their  situations  and  types  of  charac- 
ter. The  quarrel  between  Melantius  and  Amintor  in 
the  Maid's  Tragedy  must  have  been  suggested  by  that 
of  Brutus  and  Cassius  in  Julius  Ctesar ;  and  in  the 
beginning  of  Pbilaster,  the  hero  has  marked  resem- 
blances to  Hamlet.  The  sentimental  heroines,  who 
play  such  important  parts  in  the  romances,  offer  re- 
semblances to  Shakespeare's,  and  to  other  representa- 
tives of  this  type  from  the  day  of  Greene's  Dorothea. 
The  indebtedness  of  the  six  plays  to  preceding  drama 
extends,  indeed,  beyond  details.  Like  all  tragedies 
from  the  time  of  Gorboduc  and  Cambyses,  the  tragedies 
of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  dealt  with  kings  and  nobles, 
with  marked  reversals  of  fortune,  with  sensational 
crimes,  and  with  numerous  deaths.  Like  all  preceding 
tragi-comedies,  Pbilaster  presents  a  happy  conclusion 
and  a  general  reconciliation  after  a  succession  of  cir- 
cumstances of  a  tragic  cast,  intermingled  with  others  to 
supply  comic  relief.  Even  in  then-  departures  from  pre- 
cedent, Beaumont  and  Fletcher  owe  something  to  their 
predecessors.  In  breaking  away  from  the  realistic  tend- 
encies of  Jonson,  they  availed  themselves  of  some  of 
the  traits  of  earlier  romantic  comedy.  On  the  other 
hand,  in  their  abandonment  of  certain  types  of  drama, 
and  in  their  avoidance  of  extreme  violations  of  time  and 
place,  and  in  their  consequently  more  coherent  struc- 
ture, they  profited  from  Jonson' s  counsel.  Their  fond- 
ness for  fixed  types  of  character  may  also  possibly  be 
taken  as  a  sign  of  Jonson' s  influence. 


xxii  3JntroDurtton 

The  contribution  of  the  heroic  romances  to  the 
drama  can  be  understood  by  a  comparison  of  the  char- 
acteristics just  enumerated  as  defining  the  type  with 
those  of  prevailing  types  of  tragedy  and  tragi-comedy. 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  as  has  been  stated,  forsook 
tragical  chronicle-history  with  its  inevitable  accompani- 
ment of  armies  and  battles,  and  also  the  Kydian  type 
of  revenge  tragedy,  variously  developed  by  Marston, 
Shakespeare,  Chapman,  and  Webster.  They  forsook 
also  the  Marlowe  type  with  its  central  protagonist  and 
his  dominant  passion,  a  type  that  conditioned  the  su- 
preme efforts  of  Shakespeare  in  Lear  and  Othello. 
Their  tragedies  differ  from  these  classes  of  tragedies  in 
their  stories,  situations,  and  characters.  They  differ 
almost  as  saliently  in  their  methods  of  structure.  Beau- 
mont and  Fletcher  did  not,  like  most  of  their  predeces- 
sors, turn  to  English  or  Roman  history  for  their  plots, 
nor  did  they  adhere  closely  to  any  given  narratives. 
They  either,  as  apparently  in  Philaster,  the  Maid'' 5 
Tragedy,  and  A  King  and  No  King,  invented  their 
plots  entirely  ;  or,  as  in  Thierry  and  Theodoret  and 
Cupid's  Revenge,  they  used  old  stories  merely  as  a 
basis  for  their  favorite  characters  and  situations.  Nar- 
rative and  expository  scenes,  the  accompaniments  of 
the  old  chronicle  or  epic  method  of  structure,  disap- 
peared in  their  facile  development  of  incidents  into  tell- 
ing situations,  and  in  their  clever  entanglement  of  varied 
situations  leading  to  surprising  and  theatrically  effective 
catastrophes  and  denouements.  Antony  and  Cleopatra, 
with  its  numerous  narrative  scenes  and  its  cumbersome 
structure,  illustrates  the  survival  of  the  epic  method,  as 


31ntroDuction 

the  Maid's  Tragedy,  with  its  rapidity  of  surprise,  illus- 
trates the  abandonment. 

In  tragi-comedy  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  departure 
from  preceding  plays  is  distinguished  by  the  same  in- 
novations in  material  and  structure  as  in  tragedy,  and 
especially  by  the  constant  emphasis  they  place  on  the 
contrast  between  the  tragic  and  the  idyllic  elements  of 
their  plots  and  by  their  use  of  surprising  and  compli- 
cated denouements.  Measure  for  Measure,  a  tragi- 
comedy preceding  Pbilaster  by  only  a  few  years,  illus- 
trates this  departure.  In  Philaster,  the  idyllic  element, 
neglected  in  the  Mariana  story  of  Measure  for  Measure, 
receives  full  treatment  in  constant  contrast  with  the 
tragic  ;  and  the  denouement,  which  in  Measure  for 
Measure  is  only  a  long  explanation  of  what  every  one 
knows,  carries  us  rapidly  from  the  tragic  crisis  to  a 
happy  ending  through  a  series  of  telling  situations. 
This  achievement  of  theatrical  effectiveness  even  at  the 
cost  of  plausibility  and  consistency  of  character  is  per- 
haps the  chief  contribution  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher 
to  dramatic  art  and  the  most  striking  characteristic  of 
both  their  comedies  and  their  romances. 

Both  classes  of  plays  pleased  their  own  age.  By 
1612,  when  Beaumont  was  twenty-six  and  Fletcher 
thirty-three,  and  their  work  together  was  finished,,  they 
were  established  among  the  poets  of  the  highest  rank 
in  both  critical  and  popular  estimation.  Evidence  has 
elsewhere  been  advanced  to  show  that  their  heroic 
plays  had  an  influence  on  Shakespeare's  change  from 
tragedy  to  romance  and  on  the  material  and  structure 
of  his  latest  plays,  and  that  Pbilaster  led  somewhat  di- 


31ntroUuction 

rectly  to  Cymbeline.1  At  all  events  there  can  be  no 
doubt  that  both  comedies  and  romances  marked  out 
pathways  much  frequented  by  dramatists  or"  the  next 
thirty  years.  The  paths  led  possibly  to  the  ruin  of  the 
drama  through  a  less  formal  versification,  an  emphasis 
on  stage  situation  rather  than  interpretation  of  character, 
a  heedlessness  of  moral  taste,  and  a  fondness  for  abnor- 
mally sensational  themes  ;  but  what  is  worthy  as  well 
as  what  is  unworthy  in  the  plays  of  Massinger,  Shirley, 
and  even  the  Restoration  writers,  owes  much  to  Beau- 
mont and  Fletcher.  In  1647,  when  their  plays  were 
first  collected,  nearly  all  of  the  poets  of  the  day  joined 
in  commendatory  verses  expressing  admiration  without 
bounds.  They  were  ranked  above  Jonson  and  Shake- 
speare ;  and,  if  we  make  all  due  allowance  for  adula- 
tion, there  remains  an  unquestionable  sincerity  in  the 
preference  that  most  of  the  verses  accord  them.  An 
archaicism  in  language  and  taste  and  an  unevenness  of 
style  are  charged  to  Shakespeare,  and  a  heaviness  and 
laboriousness  to  Jonson,  while  the  modernity  and  nat- 
uralness of  the  younger  men  receive  contrasted  praise. 
The  Restoration  found  their  plays  the  favorites  of  the 
theatre,  though  the  genius  of  Betterton  discovered  its 
best  opportunities  in  the  great  parts  of  Shakespeare's 
tragedies ;  and  Dryden  only  summed  up  the  critical 
opinion  of  the  day  in  his  masterly  analyses  that  ranked 
them  with  Shakespeare  and  Jonson.  By  the  beginning  of 
the  eighteenth  century,  Pseudo-classicism  brought  them 
into  disrepute  with  the  critical,  and  a  chastened  stage 

1    The  Influence  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  on  Sbakspere,  A.  H. 
Thorndike,  1901. 


JflntroDuction  xxv 

saw  their  plays  but  seldom.  During  the  two  centuries 
since,  they  have  never  recovered  their  former  popu- 
larity, yet  they  have  never  been  long  without  favor 
from  the  reading  public,  as  the  various  editions  of  their 
plays  testify,  and  one  may  doubt  whether  their  influ- 
ence on  the  stage  has  ever  been  quite  lost. 

To-day,  however,  it  is  only  by  recalling  their  posi- 
tion and  relations  in  the  history  of  the  drama  in  the 
seventeenth  century  that  we  are  likely  to  form  a  gener- 
ous estimate  of  their  genius  and  art  or  a  just  appreciation 
of  the  plays  that  best  represent  their  combined  endea- 
vors, the  heroic  romances.  On  reading  them,  one's  first 
admiration  is  doubtless  for  the  astonishing  cleverness  of 
the  invention  and  construction.  Since  their  day  we  have 
had  romances  and  melodramas  in  multitudes,  both  in 
dramas  and  novels;  and  devices  for  exciting  the  reader's 
attention  and  holding  him  in  a  suspense  to  be  ended  by 
a  surprise  and  a  fresh  suspense  have  been  multiplied  and 
elaborated  indefinitely.  Yet  few  works  of  fiction  secure 
the  reader's  attention  to  the  story  with  the  power  of 
the  Maid"1  s  Tragedy.  There  are  faults  and  conventions, 
to  be  sure,  that  would  not  be  repeated  to-day.  The 
masque  in  it  is  an  interlude,  a  piece  of  stage  decoration 
and  vocalism,  peculiar  to  the  period ;  and  the  idyl  of 
Aspatia,  though  it  affords  an  opportunity  for  exquisite 
poetry,  is  again  not  altogether  to  our  taste.  The  lady 
who  accompanies  Melantius  to  the  masque  is  introduced 
with  a  good  deal  of  flourish  but  to  no  purpose  ;  and 
the  sudden  conversion  of  Evadne  from  the  merciless 
and  shameless  taunter  of  Amintor  into  his  penitent 
lover  and  avenger,  is  a  sheer  impossibility.  This  last 


3f]ntroDuction 

defect,  however,  illustrates  both  the  method  and  the 
power  of  the  authors.  The  difficulty  is  one  not  infre- 
quent in  romance  :  a  sensational  plot  requires  an  incred- 
ible revolution  in  the  character  of  one  of  the  actors. 
Evadne  has  to  be  converted,  and  her  conversion  must 
take  place  on  the  stage,  and  the  agent  cannot  be  the 
frantic  Amintor  but  must  be  her  brother,  the  blunt  and 
unyielding  Melantius.  Given  the  situation  —  Melan- 
tius  is  to  cow  and  convert  Evadne  —  and  how  could 
it  be  managed  with  greater  theatrical  effectiveness  or 
indeed  with  more  vivid  suggestion  of  reality  than  in  the 
unrelenting  tirades  that  Fletcher  has  written  ?  Our 
authors  never  hesitated  to  face  impossibilities,  least  of  all 
incredible  changes  in  character  ;  they  simply  sat  firm  in 
the  saddle  and  spurred  their  Pegasus  for  the  jump. 

That  some  of  the  scenes  act  with  unparalleled  stage 
effect,  we  have  the  testimony  of  seventeenth  century  play- 
goers and  of  some  few  amateurs  who  have  undertaken 
the  play  in  recent  years.  The  murder  of  the  king  would 
surely  thrill  the  spectator  as  few  stage  murders  do. 
With  what  extraordinary  vividness  the  whole  scene 
comes  before  even  a  reader's  eyes,  —  the  smirking  jests 
of  the  gentlemen-in-waiting,  the  half-lit  room,  the 
stealthy  binding  of  the  king,  his  slow  awakening,  his 
confused  impotent  interruptions  of  Evadne' s  unflinch- 
ing recital,  the  uplifted  knife,  the  groans  for  pity,  the 
terrible  stabs  — 

Hell  take  me  then  !     This  for  my  Lord  Amintor ! 
This  for  my  noble  brother !    And  this  stroke 
For  the  most  wronged  of  women  ! 

She  glides  across  the  stage  —  the  bloody  knife  uncon- 
cealed —  and  the  smirking  gentlemen  enter  again. 


3flntrolmction 

The  particular  kingdom  in  the  world  of  romance  to 
which  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  introduce  us  is  not  a 
happy  or  a  healthy  one,  but  it  does  not  lack  excite- 
ment. It  is  no  place  for  meditation  over  life's  purposes, 
or  for  observation  of  human  motives,  and  none  is  per- 
mitted. We  are  given  seats  in  an  ante-room  of  the 
palace,  and  at  once  the  flow  of  events  engrosses  us,  — 
conspiracies  and  imprisonments,  insurrections  and  wars, 
adultery,  seduction  and  murder,  the  talk  of  courtiers, 
gossip  of  women,  banquets  of  the  monarch,  tempests 
of  passion,  and  the  laments  of  the  love-lorn.  A  few 
hours,  and  kingdoms  have  trembled  in  the  balance  ;  the 
heroine  has  been  proved  guilty  and  innocent  again  ; 
the  murdered  have  come  to  life  ;  and  the  lover  has  been 
ecstatic,  jealous,  frantic,  implacable,  forgiving,  and 
serene  at  last.  Yet  all  is  plausible  enough  in  the  brilliant 
flow  of  the  verse  ;  or  if  part  of  it  is  incredible,  it  all 
passes  on  so  rapidly  that  there  is  no  time  for  doubt. 

This  land  of  romance  is  a  land  of  thrills,  and  thrills 
of  many  sorts.  It  is  not  altogether  given  up  to  violence; 
it  has  its  idyls  and  sentiments.  Near  the  palace  is  a 
forest,  where  now  and  then  after  a  tumultuous  hour 
we  may  retire  to  cool  our  harried  senses,  and  where 
the  lovers  wander  to  forget  their  misfortunes  and  by  its 
fountains  weave  their  sighs  into  lyrical  garlands.  For 
even  in  this  realm  love  is  often  innocent  and  young. 
Athwart  the  path  of  the  murderous  Evadne  comes  the 
melancholy  and  tender  Aspatia  ;  and  amid  the  corrup- 
tion of  the  court  of  Iberia  there  has  grown  the  pure 
devotion  of  a  Bellario.  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  did 
nothing  by  halves.  If  a  man  is  a  coward,  he  endures  a 


xxviii  KJntrotiurtton 

thousand  kicks  ;  if  a  woman  sins,  she  multiplies  adultery 
by  murder  ;  if  a  woman  is  pure  and  gentle,  she  finds 
her  sweetest  pleasure  in  dying  by  the  hand  of  the  man 
she  loves.  On  their  idyls  they  lavished  all  the  graces  of 
their  art.  Their  maidens  suffer,  serve,  and  weep,  love, 
forgive,  and  die  in  lines  that  somehow  preserve  the  grace 
of  simplicity  though  they  wear  all  the  jewels  of  imagery 
and  allusion  that  the  authors  possess.  The  portraits  of 
these  martyrs  in  love  are  far  from  life-like  ;  they  belong 
to  the  idyllic  forest  of  the  court-romance ;  they  seem 
to  be  made  in  response  to  a  challenge,  —  ««  Paint  me 
tenderness,  sweetness,  feminine  perfection."  Yet  one 
will  not  read  the  plays  without  falling  now  and  again 
under  the  charm  of  the  lovely  verses  that  tell  of  wo- 
man's love  —  often  indeed  with  fine  dramatic  insight, 
with  consummate  fitness  of  language,  and  an  imaginat- 
ive ideality.  Recall  Bellario  and  Ordella  facing  death 
for  their  beloved. 

Bellario.    Alas,  my  lord,  my  life  is  not  a  thing 
Worthy  your  noble  thoughts  !  'tis  not  a  life, 
'Tis  but  a  piece  of  childhood  thrown  away.1 

Ordella.    'Tis  of  all  sleeps  the  sweetest ; 
Children  begin  it  to  us,  strong  men  seek  it, 
And  kings  from  height  of  all  their  painted  glories 
Fall  like  spent  exhalations  to  this  centre  : 
And  those  are  fools  that  fear  it,  or  imagine, 
A  few  unhandsome  pleasures,  or  life's  profits, 
Can  recompense  this  place  ;  and  mad  that  stay  it 
Till  age  blow  out  their  lights,  or  rotten  humours 
Bring  them  dispersed  to  earth.2 

After  all  one  rejoices  that  this  Camelot  has  its  Astolat 
and  one  regrets  that  the  forests  and  fountains  could  not 

1   Pbilaster,  v,  2.  *   Thierry  and  Tbeodoret,  iv,  I. 


31ntroOuction 

be  kept  sacred  to  true  love  and  its  lyrics.  But  the  forest 
is  close  to  the  palace,  and  the  shouting  and  tumult  are 
carried  from  the  one  to  the  other.  The  various  persons 
introduce  one  another  in  long  descriptions,  and  after  an 
introductory  speech,  the  character  remains  fixed  except 
as  the  shifting  situations  demand  some  unexpected 
change.  There  is  no  shading  or  subtlety  in  the  char- 
acterization, little  discrimination  or  individuality  in  the 
different  representatives  of  their  favorite  types,  who, 
however,  are  not  at  all  wanting  in  originality.  The  miles 
gloriosus,  for  example,  becomes  in  their  hands  a  very 
different  person  from  Falstaff  or  Bobadill ;  he  displays 
new  resources  of  vanity  and  meets  exposure  with  new 
feats  of  audacity  ;  he  is  perfectly  distinct  and  ingen- 
iously comic,  at  least  as  a  stage  figure.  So,  too,  the  con- 
ventional type  of  the  querulous  old  man  becomes  a 
source  of  fresh  comedy  in  Calianax,  and  the  old  cap- 
tain who  leads  the  insurrection  in  Philaster  is  conceived 
with  audacious  humor  and  abundant  spirit.  And  if 
our  poets  do  not  reveal  the  depths  or  complexities  of 
human  nature,  they  have  the  power  of  rising  to  a  situ- 
ation and  of  expressing  dramatic  emotion.  So  their 
type  of  evil  woman  acquires  tremendous  force  in  the 
great  scenes  where  Evadne  plays  her  part,  and  then- 
type  of  female  saintliness  becomes  human  and  sincere 
in  the  white  light  of  Ordella's  devotion. 

Moreover  their  men  and  women  talk  like  real  per- 
sons. Dryden  declared  that  they  understood  and  imi- 
tated the  conversation  of  gentlemen  much  better  than 
Shakespeare,  and  in  some  respects  this  distinction  is  clear 
enough  to-day.  The  men  of  the  early  tragedies,  by 


jflmroBuction 

Marlowe,  Kyd,  Marston,  or  Shakespeare,  had  spoken 
a  language  elevated  and  removed  from  ordinary  dis- 
course. The  bombastic  vein  finds  repeated  illustration 
in  Shakespeare's  early  plays  ;  as  in  the  opening  lines 
of  Henry  VI,  — 

Hung  be  the  heavens  with  black  !  yield  day  to  night !  etc. 
Or  of  Richard  III,  — 

Now  is  the  winter  of  our  discontent 

Made  glorious  summer  by  this  sun  of  York  — 

Nor  did  the  effort  for  a  declamatory  and  sententious 
tragic  style  fail  to  leave  an  impression  on  the  works  of 
his  maturer  genius.  The  very  style  of  phrase  that  comes 
from  Coriolanus,  Lear,  or  Othello  removes  the  speakers 
from  the  manners  of  the  age  and  the  habits  of  the  audit- 
ors. Coriolanus  begins,  — 

Thanks.    What 's  the  matter  you  disentious  rogues, 
That,  rubbing  the  poor  itch  of  your  opinion, 
Make  yourselves  scabs  ? 

And  Othello,  — 

Let  him  do  his  spite  : 

My  services  which  I  have  done  the  signiory 
Shall  out-tongue  his  complaints.    'Tis  yet  to  know,  — 
Which,  when  I  know  that  boasting  is  an  honour, 
I  shall  promulgate  — 

Compare  these  speeches  with  the  opening  words  of 
Melantius,  and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  phrases 
of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  have  the  advantage  in  natur- 
alness. Or  compare  them  with  the  opening  boast  of 
the  most  ranting  of  their  kings,  Arbaces  — 

Thy  sadness,  brave  Tigranes,  takes  away 
From  my  full  victory  :  am  I  become 
Of  so  small  fame,  that  any  man  should  grieve 
When  I  o'ercome  him  ? 


3|ntroDuctton 

The  vaunt  is  melodramatic,  but  the  language  is  keyed 
to  ordinary  speech. 

Such  talk  as  this  makes  the  thrilling  events  and  the 
exaggerated  types  of  character  seem  plausible.  The 
method  of  Shakespeare  is  reversed.  We  accept  his 
land  of  romance,  but  it  is  far  from  the  world  of  the  day, 
and  we  have  a  sense  of  being  conveyed  thither.  So 
the  opening  dialogue  of  Theseus  and  Hippolyta  bears 
us  one  stage  from  reality  toward  fairy-land,  and  the 
opening  lines  of  the  Duke  in  Twelfth  Night  prepare 
us  for  an  Illyria  of  sunshine,  sentiment,  and  song.  The 
poetry  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  on  the  contrary, 
does  not  carry  us  to  romance,  it  brings  romance  to  us. 
We  are  introduced  into  a  court,  which  despite  the  for- 
eign names  much  resembles  the  court  of  James  I;  there 
is  some  gossip  or  compliment  among  a  few  gentlemen, 
and  there  is  no  elevation  of  language,  the  phrases  are 
not  heavy  with  premonitions  of  disaster  ;  in  compar- 
ison with  preceding  Elizabethan  tragedies,  the  diction 
is  natural,  clear,  and  modern.  The  spectators  at  Black- 
friars  must  have  felt  that  they  were  viewing  men  and 
women  like  themselves,  and  thereby  have  been  inclined 
to  accept  the  marvels  and  horrors  that  followed.  The 
trick  has  since  become  common  in  romance  ;  a  clever 
young  American  invades  a  marvellous  toy  kingdom  in 
central  Europe,  foils  conspiracies,  marries  the  princess, 
and  accomplishes  all  sorts  of  upsets  and  escapes,  —  and 
we  accept  everything  as  we  read  because  the  persons 
appear  and  talk  like  acquaintances.  Similarly  a  lack  of 
archaicism  or  remoteness  in  speech  goes  far  to  make 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  romances  plausible. 


3]mrotmrtion 

Perhaps  the  happiest  result  of  their  introduction  of 
a  gentleman  of  1610  into  a  romantic  orgy  is  found  in 
the  character  of  Melantius.  Theatre-goers  had  been 
long  used  to  a  central  figure  in  tragedy,  vehement, 
ranting,  eloquent,  and  passionate,  with  a  part  full  of 
violent  action  and  sounding  declamation ;  as,  Tambur- 
laine,  Hieronimo,  Richard  III,  Othello,  or  Lear. 
Melantius  is  of  a  different  sort ;  he  does  not  tear  a 
passion  to  tatters  in  sounding  polysyllables  ;  or  go  in- 
sane ;  or  invoke  earth  and  heaven  and  their  mysteries 
in  his  midnight  meditations.  He  talks  without  infla- 
tus,  periphrasis,  or  aphorism,  like  a  gentleman  of  the 
day  ;  yet  how  he  talks  !  His  gift  of  blunt,  soldierly 
conversation  wins  the  keys  of  the  castle  from  his  bitter- 
est enemy,  wrings  the  secret  of  his  sister's  dishonor 
from  the  wronged  Amintor,  and  converts  that  sister 
from  a  brazen  sinner  into  a  penitent  martyr.  The  pro- 
tagonist must  still  excel  in  talk,  but  his  talk  is  different, 
and  his  character  as  well.  The  protagonist  is  no 
longer  the  creature  of  a  mysterious  fate,  a  self-revealing 
villain,  or  a  victim  of  his  own  overpowering  passion, 
but  he  is  the  beau  ideal  of  the  seventeenth  century 
gentleman,  clever,  daring,  indomitable,  never  at  a  loss, 
fastidious  of  honor,  and  above  all  a  loyal  and  efficient 
friend.  His  loyalty  appeals  to  our  sympathies  less 
deeply  than  Kent's  and  his  avowals  of  friendship  have 
the  taint  of  exaggeration,  but  perhaps  the  well-worn 
stage  type  of  the  faithful  friend  has  never  been  drawn 
with  greater  distinctness  and  enthusiasm. 

In  the  main,  however,  what  existence  the  characters 
have  outside  of  the  situations  in  which  they  are  placed, 


KlntroDuction  xxxiii 

what  reality  they  retain  in  our  memories,  is  due  to  the 
power  of  the  verse  to  reflect  clearly  the  emotions  of  the 
moment.  There  is,  as  has  been  said,  an  absence  of 
that  tragic  inflatus  made  so  effective  in  Marlowe, 
striven  after  by  many  imitators,  and  not  wanting  even 
in  Shakespeare's  masterpieces.  There  is  a  notable  ab- 
sence of  the  merely  sonorous,  the  turgid  declamation, 
the  mouthing  of  strange  words  ;  that  sort  of  style  is 
ridiculed  in  Pharamond  and  Bessus.  The  style  of  the 
romances  is  marked,  too,  by  an  absence  of  overcrowd- 
ing thought,  such  as  seems  sometimes  striven  after  in 
Marston  or  Chapman,  and  such  as  sometimes  makes 
Shakespeare's  lines  a  puzzle.  Beaumont  and  Fletcher 
have  no  emotions  too  fleeting  or  too  profound  for  utter- 
ance, no  perplexing  tangle  of  thought  that  defies  ex- 
pression in  decasyllabics  ;  and  they  had  no  desire  to 
make  their  style  sententious,  weighty,  philosophical. 
They  had  no  doubt  about  what  they  wanted  to  say, 
and  they  said  it  clearly  and  rapidly.  They  had  room 
for  ornament  and  rhetorical  device  but  none  for  eccen- 
tricity or  obscurity.  Dryden's  remark  that  they  per- 
fected the  English  language  deserves  consideration  as  the 
view  of  a  century  later,  and  can  be  appreciated  to-day. 
After  the  tragedies  of  Jonson,  Marston,  Marlowe, 
Chapman,  Webster,  or  Tourneur,  one  escapes  with  an 
elation  of  temper  to  the  unpuzzling  verse  of  the  Maid's 
Tragedy  and  Philaster.  One  misses  with  a  sense  of 
joy  the  entanglement  and  doubt  felt  in  the  others,  and 
often  enough,  too,  in  Shakespeare. 

Such  traits  of  style  as  have  been  noticed  are  common 
to  both  men,  and  seem  due  —  so  far  as  they  are  con- 


xxxiv  HlntroDurtton 

scious  at  all  —  to  an  effort  to  make  dramatic  style  cor- 
respond as  nearly  as  possible  to  natural  speech.  This 
seems  particularly  true  of  Fletcher,  who  is  the  more 
revolutionary  of  the  two  in  his  innovations  and  the 
more  persistent  in  his  mannerisms.  His  structure  is 
loose  and  conversational  ;  parentheses  and  colloquial- 
isms abound  ;  and  his  blank  verse  breaks  down  the 
barriers  of  the  rigid  pentameter  and  approaches  the 
irregular  rhythm  of  prose.  Added  syllables  are  numer- 
ous, and  feminine  endings  usurp  a  large  majority  of  the 
lines.  Beaumont  differs  from  Fletcher  in  his  use  of 
feminine  endings  and  end-stopt  lines,  using  far  fewer 
of  either  than  Fletcher,  but  he  too  imitates  the  broken 
and  unpremeditated  effect  of  ordinary  speech  and,  like 
Fletcher,  avoids  unusual  words  and  obscure  construc- 
tions. In  long  speeches  or  hi  descriptive  or  lyrical 
passages,  the  structure  naturally  becomes  more  periodic, 
the  rhythm  more  sustained,  and  the  imagery  more  elab- 
orate ;  and  it  is  in  such  passages  that  Beaumont  is 
often  at  his  best.  He  is  free,  too,  from  the  annoying 
faults  of  Fletcher,  who  is  careless  and  monotonous  in 
rhythm  and  structure.  But  both  writers  rise  now  and 
then  to  an  intensely  imaginative  phrase  or  a  beautifully 
wrought  description,  and  the  chief  merit  of  their  style 
is  its  constant  power  to  suit  itself  to  the  ever-shifting 
action  and  emotion.  The  style  of  neither  is  suggestive  of 
the  intricacies  of  human  feeling  or  the  splendor  of  hu- 
man intellect,  but  the  style  of  both,  of  Fletcher  preemi- 
nently, reveals  a  fertility  of  imagination  and  an  astonish- 
ing mobility  of  words.  For  what  it  attempts,  it  is  sur- 
prisingly competent.  In  its  lyric  moments,  it  sings  ;  in 


3IntroOuction 

the  conversation  of  gentlemen,  it  is  deft  and  rapid  ;  in 
the  crises  of  passion,  thrilling  ;  in  its  idyls,  melodious 
and  sweet ;  and  it  is  always  copious  and  lucid. 

It  is  these  extraordinary  merits  of  style  that  gave 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher  their  seventeenth  century  reputa- 
tion and  have  attracted  readers  in  the  generations  since. 
Ethical  objections  to  their  plays  drove  them  finally  from 
the  stage  and  continue  to  disturb  readers  to-day. 

One  ethical  charge,  fathered  by  Coleridge  and  often 
repeated,  calls  for  defence.  Coleridge  denounced  them 
as  servile,  divinojure,  royalists,  and  Professor  Ward, 
though  he  instances  the  climax  of  the  Maid's  Tragedy 
to  the  contrary,  declares  that  their  sentiment  of  loyalty 
"  means  the  abandonment  of  the  aspiration  for  freedom 
as  part  of  the  sense  of  manhood  ;  —  it  is  slavery  drap- 
ing itself  with  chivalrous  dignity  in  the  cloak  of  '  the 
Emperor's  loyal  general.'  "  A  belief  in  divine  right 
may  naturally  have  been  acquired  and  possibly  retained 
by  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  as  well  as  by  most  drama- 
tists of  the  day.  They  certainly  make  use  of  the  sanct- 
ity of  the  king's  person  as  a  motive  intelligible  to  their 
audiences  and  of  importance  to  the  persons  in  the 
drama  ;  but  the  "  servility  "  and  "  slavery  "  are  hardly 
apparent.  Both  Phi/aster  and  the  Maid's  Tragedy, 
having  plots  of  the  authors'  invention,  deal  with  suc- 
cessful insurrections  against  royal  power,  and  in  the 
Maid's  Tragedy  the  leader  of  the  insurrection  induces 
his  sister  to  murder  the  king.  When  we  recall  that  in 
1 60 1  actors  were  punished  for  performing  Richard  II 
with  the  deposition  of  the  king,  and  that  the  scene  was 
omitted  from  the  first  two  editions  of  the  play,  and 


3|ntroDuction 

when  we  recall  that  an  alteration  of  the  Maid's 
Tragedy,  omitting  the  murder  of  the  king,  was  deemed 
necessary  in  the  reign  of  Charles  II,  the  attitude  of 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher  seems  daring  rather  than  ser- 
vile. Still  farther,  they  are  no  great  respecters  of 
royal  worth.  Their  monarchs  are  weak,  corrupt,  lust- 
ful ;  and  the  most  vigorous  of  them  all,  Arbaces,  is 
not  of  royal  birth  and  has  no  divine  right.  It  has 
been  argued  that  Shakespeare  was  a  democrat  because 
in  opposition  to  current  laudation  of  royalty  he  repre- 
sented kings  with  the  weaknesses  and  crimes  of  ordi- 
nary men  ;  and  if  this  argument  be  allowed  weight, 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher  were  democrats  and  revolution- 
ists. Perhaps  it  is  fairer  to  judge  them  as  literary  artists 
and  not  as  political  theorists.  Their  tragedies,  as  all 
Elizabethan  tragedies,  dealt  with  kings  ;  dealing  with 
kings,  they  naturally  made  divine  right  play  an  important 
part  ;  they  emphasized  the  sentiment  of  royal  sanctity 
in  order  to  make  royal  weakness  more  effective  dramat- 
ically, —  in  order  to  make  the  assassination  of  a  king 
more  theatrically  sensational.  They  wrote  as  drama- 
tists, described  kings  as  both  good  and  bad,  but  gener- 
ally bad,  and  if  necessary  they  murdered  them  without 
pity. 

Other  ethical  objections  to  their  plays,  however,  are 
less  easily  refuted.  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  depict  love 
of  many  kinds  and  they  present  its  abnormal  or  sensa- 
tional aspects  with  an  outspokenness  that  is  offensive  to 
modern  refinement  and  reveals  an  absence  of  moral 
taste  on  the  part  of  the  authors.  In  view  of  the  char- 
acter of  the  court  of  James  I  and  the  contemporary  ex- 


posure  of  the  career  of  Frances  Howard,  it  must  be 
admitted  that  the  dramatists  represented  faithfully  the 
loose  manners  and  flagrant  immorality  of  their  age  ; 
but  the  representation  is  without  apology  or  satire  and 
apparently  without  consciousness  of  its  grossness.  The 
atmosphere  is  never  quite  pure.  A  model  of  feminine 
purity  may  kiss  and  be  kissed  by  the  suitors  she  resists, 
and  an  ideal  of  innocence  join  unabashed  in  jests  that 
to-day  would  be  unpardonable.  The  themes  of  their 
plays  are  hardly  more  sensational  than  those  of  many 
recent  novels,  and  their  outspokenness  might  possibly 
be  defended  in  comparison  with  modern  reticence  and 
suggestion,  but  it  must  be  confessed  that  the  whole 
tone  of  their  work  is  less  pure  and  healthy  than  of  any 
dramatist  preceding  them,  and  that  it  opens  the  way 
to  the  lewdness  of  the  Restoration. 

No  one  indeed  will  care  to  claim  much  credit  for 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher  as  moral  teachers.  Unlike  some 
of  then"  contemporaries,  they  did  not  seek  to  discover 
and  chastise  the  follies  and  excesses  of  their  time  ;  and 
their  conception  of  drama  did  not  involve  the  study  of 
human  motives  in  the  light  of  moral  law.  They  dealt 
with  themes  that  would  please  their  audience  and  pat- 
rons and  would  offer  a  sufficient  range  of  emotions  for 
the  exhibition  of  the  authors'  poetic  powers.  Of  many 
modern  romanticists  and  sentimentalists  little  more  can 
be  said  ;  like  them,  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  were  fond 
of  love  and  lovers  and  sought  to  present  many  varieties, 
but  their  imaginations  kept  too  frequent  company  with 
the  gross  and  unhealthy.  With  no  distinct  moral  pur- 
pose, without  imaginations  that  touched  spiritual  heights 


3flntroDuction 

or  penetrated  to  the  real  significance  of  moral  conflict, 
they  entered  unhesitatingly  on  the  task  of  holding  up 
a  mirror  to  a  society  loose  in  manners  and  unprincipled 
in  morals.  They  are  not  so  much  guilty  of  intentional 
immorality  as  impotent  to  produce  moral  effect.  But 
something  must  be  added  on  the  other  side.  If  their 
imaginations  run  loose  in  a  corrupt  society,  they  also 
seek  at  times  the  sweeter  and  the  nobler  aspects  of  life. 
What  won  for  their  ethics  high  laudation  from  con- 
temporary critics  and  may  carry  to  us  at  least  a  partial 
justification  for  their  lapses,  were  their  rhetorical  and 
dramatic  adulation  of  innocence  and  purity,  and,  as  it 
seems  to  us,  their  more  sincere  and  not  less  enthusiastic 
exaltation  of  generosity,  friendship,  and  devotion.  The 
critic  of  their  ethics  should  not  forget  Melantius  and 
Ordella. 

If  little  enlightenment  for  the  moral  perceptions 
comes  from  reading  then-  plays,  there  will  surely  be 
astonishment  and  admiration  for  the  triumphant  flow  of 
verse,  scene,  and  plot ;  and  by  the  historical  student, 
a  recognition  of  the  freshness  and  importance  of  their 
art  in  its  own  day.  In  all  the  marvellous  story  of  the 
Elizabethan  drama  few  chapters  captivate  the  fancy 
more  delightfully  than  the  one  that  tells  of  their  pre- 
cocious success.  At  the  time  when  Jonson  and  Shake- 
speare were  at  their  best,  these  two  striplings  began. 
The  critical,  humorous,  and  imaginative  Beaumont  and 
the  witty,  irresponsible,  and  extraordinarily  clever 
Fletcher  somehow  harmonized  their  differences  and 
united  their  powers.  They  wrote  plays  as  plays,  poems 
as  poems,  mindful  of  the  courtly  public,  mindful  of  the 


3flntro&uctiott 

critics,  heedless  of  the  moralists.  They  were  neither 
psychologists  nor  preachers ;  they  did  not  harness  philo- 
sophy to  the  drama  ;  they  had  none  of  that  high  serious- 
ness, which  Matthew  Arnold  says  is  necessary  to  great 
poetry  and  which  has  certainly  spoiled  a  great  deal  of 
poetry.  Their  view  of  life  was  that  of  the  wits,  gal- 
lants, and  poets  of  the  Mermaid  tavern.  To  be  generous, 
courtly,  loyal  in  friendship,  was  enough  of  a  creed  ;  their 
aspiration  was  artistic  rather  than  ethical,  —  «« to  put 
their  whole  wit  in  a  jest,"  their  whole  genius  in  a  play. 
Their  genius  to  be  sure  has  sometimes  the  appearance  of 
sowing  its  wild  oats  ;  but  with  the  faults  of  youth,  it 
has  some  of  the  virtues.  If  it  has  no  power  to  widen 
the  reader's  horizon,  to  stimulate  a  finer  and  kindlier 
interest  in  life,  or  to  purify  the  passions  through  a  re- 
velation of  their  torments,  it  has  certainly  the  power  to 
excite,  fascinate,  thrill,  and  delight  us.  If  their  presen- 
tation of  life  lacks  a  sustained  suggestiveness  of  reality, 
that  is  a  fault  of  immaturity  ;  if  their  poetry  responds 
to  every  challenge  of  their  subject,  that  is  the  triumph 
of  prodigal  genius. 

Let  us  not  emphasize  unduly  their  spontaneity  and 
cleverness  at  the  expense  of  their  artistic  endeavor. 
They  were  artists  coming  late  in  a  great  creative  period, 
aware  of  the  greatness  of  what  had  preceded  and  also 
of  its  irregularities  and  excesses.  They  used  the  dra- 
matic form  with  copious  invention  and  an  unrivalled 
perception  of  dramatic  possibilities  in  story  or  scene. 
They  added  new  types  of  plays  and  they  developed 
these  with  the  zest  and  freedom  of  genius  and  the  care 
of  constructive  artists.  They  subdued  their  ingenuity 


xl  Introduction 

to  the  requirements  of  the  stage  and  they  made  their 
blank  verse  a  pellucid  mirror  of  the  situations  and  emo- 
tions that  they  conceived. 

After  all,  the  plays  of  their  collaboration  are  the  ex- 
periments of  men  in  their  twenties.  Perhaps,  if  Beau- 
mont had  lived,  their  brotherly  cooperation  would  have 
resulted  in  maturer  and  nobler  achievement.  As  it  is, 
their  plays,  with  their  excitement  and  surprises,  their 
heroisms  and  their  wit,  disclose  an  imagination  that  can 
often  pierce  to  the  heart  of  a  passion  or  reveal  anew 
the  beauty  of  language  ;  and  they  bring  before  us  an 
age  with  manners  and  morals  far  removed  from  our 
own,  an  age  brutal,  passionate,  unreserved,  quick  and 
indiscriminate  in  its  emotions,  but  an  age  still  cherishing 
its  ideals  of  magnanimity  and  its  dreams  of  idyllic  love 
and  courageous  friendship. 


THE    AUTHORSHIP    OF     THE    MAID'S    TRAGEDY 
AND    PHILASTER 

The  division  of  the  plays  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher 
between  the  two  authors  has  been  much  discussed,  and 
substantial  agreement  in  regard  to  their  respective  shares 
has  been  reached  through  the  application  of  verse-tests  by 
Mr.  Fleay,  Mr.  Boyle,  and  Mr.  Oliphant. *  The  verse  of 

*F.  G.  Fleay:  Transactions  N.  5.  S.,  1874;  Chronicle  of 
the  English  Drama,  1891. 

R.  Boyle :  Englische  Studien,  v,  vn,  vm,  ix,  x ;  Trans. 
N.  S.  S.,  1886. 

E.  F.  Oliphant  :   Englische  Studien,  xiv,  xv,  xvi. 

See  also  Francis  Beaumont,  a  critical  study,  G.  C.  Macaulay, 


jflntrofcuetion  xii 

Fletcher  has  certain  marked  traits  that  render  it  easily 
recognizable,  for  instance,  a  large  proportion  of  feminine 
endings,  often  60  to  70  %,  and  a  small  proportion  of 
run-over  lines,  i  o  to  20  %  ;  Beaumont's  verse  has  a  small 
proportion  of  feminine  endings,  10  to  15  %,  and  a  larger 
proportion  (about  25  <#,)  of  run-over  lines  than  Fletcher's. 
The  verse  of  Fletcher,  in  plays  of  which  he  was  the  sole 
author,  exhibits  these  percentages  with  constancy  ;  for 
Beaumont's  verse  we  have  a  less  certain  criterion  since 
we  have  no  external  evidence  that  any  play  was  the  re- 
sult of  his  unaided  effort.  The  metrical  tests,  however, 
furnish  in  a  large  number  of  scenes  a  certain  means  for 
distinguishing  the  work  of  the  two  authors.  When,  for 
example,  every  20  lines  of  a  scene  have  a  majority  of 
double  endings,  the  scene  is  Fletcher's ;  when  every 
20  lines  have  but  two  or  three  feminine  endings,  the 
scene  is  certainly  not  Fletcher's  but  Beaumont's. 

Some  difficulties,  however,  counsel  caution.  The 
verse-tests  are  applicable  when  the  collaboration  is  after 
the  usual  Elizabethan  manner,  each  author  taking  certain 
scenes  or  divisions  of  the  play  and  writing  these  with 
little  or  no  intervention  from  his  collaborator ;  but  if 
two  writers  worked  in  more  intimate  cooperation  on  a 
scene,  verse-tests  might  fail  to  indicate  their  shares. 
Again,  many  passages  evidently  written  as  verse  are 
printed  as  prose  in  the  early  editions,  and  the  division 
into  verse  is  the  work  of  modern  editors  ;  and  other  pass- 
ages that  are  still  printed  as  prose  seem  likely  to  have 
been  written  as  verse.  Prose  passages  and  songs  offer  no 

1883,  London,  and  the  article  on  Fletcher  by  A.  H.  Bullen  in 
the  Diet.  Nat.  Biog. 

For  detailed  treatment  of  the  verse-tests  for  Beaumont  and 
Fletcher,  see  the  volumes  of  the  Bella  Lettres  Series  dealing  with 
each  dramatist. 


xlii  3IntroDuction 

opportunity  for  verse-tests  ;  and  although  prose  is  usually 
assigned  to  Beaumont,  such  assignment  rests  mainly  on 
the  fact  that  there  is  almost  no  prose  in  plays  by  Fletcher 
alone.  In  the  case  of  the  two  plays  in  this  book,  there 
are  some  further  considerations.  There  are  few  places 
where  the  percentage  of  double  endings  runs  as  high  as  in 
Fletcher's  later  or  even  in  his  other  early  plays,  as,  for 
example,  the  last  two  of  the  Four  Plays  in  One.  On  the 
other  hand,  in  the  scenes  usually  assigned  to  Beaumont  the 
percentage  of  feminine  endings  occasionally  exceeds  his 
average.  There  is  always  the  possibility  that  Fletcher 
discarded  for  a  time  his  mannerisms,  as  he  did  in  the 
Faithful  Shepherdess,  which  differs  entirely  in  versification 
from  the  rest  of  his  plays  ;  and  one  may  suspect  him  of 
attuning  himself  more  closely  to  Beaumont  in  these  two 
plays  than  elsewhere.  But  in  view  of  all  these  considera- 
tions, the  fact  that  the  verse-tests  reveal  decisive  and  con- 
sistent differences  goes  far  to  establish  their  reliability. 

In  the  case  of  the  Maid""s  Tragedy,  critics  are  practically 
agreed,  and  a  careful  application  of  verse-tests  by  the 
present  editor  suggests  little  amendment.  To  Fletcher 
may  be  assigned  :  ii,  2  ;  iv,  i  ;  v,  i,  2  (/.  e.  i,  2,  3, 
as  printed  in  other  editions).  The  close  of  v,  i,  after  the 
exit  of  Evadne,  is  given  by  Fleay  and  Oliphant  to  Beau- 
mont, and  the  metrical  characteristics  are  certainly  not 
Fletcher's.  Act  i,  scene  2,  contains  some  prose  and  the 
masque,  and  cannot  be  assigned  by  verse-tests.  The  re- 
mainder of  the  play — i,  i;  ii,  i;  iii,  i,  2;  iv,  2;  v,  3 
(4,  in  other  editions)  —  is  given  by  all  critics  to  Beau- 
mont, and  contains  no  trace  of  Fletcher,  except  possibly 
in  i,  i. 

Phi/aster  offers  a  more  difficult  problem.  About  one 
fourth  of  the  play  is  in  prose,  the  assignment  of  which  is 
precarious  ;  and  several  of  the  verse-scenes  exhibit  some 


2f|ntr0&uction 

of  the  qualities  of  both  poets  and  a  percentage  of  double 
endings  too  small  for  Fletcher  and  too  large  for  Beau- 
mont. Their  contributions  cannot  always  be  distinctly 
separated.  Evidence  of  Fletcher's  hand  seems  apparent  to 
the  present  editor  in  —  i,  ib  (after  entry  of  king)  ;  ii,  2 
(mostly  prose)  ;  ii,  4-b  (from  reentry  of  Dion) ;  iii,  z 
(traces,  passim) ;  v,  3,4.  This  assignment  agrees  with 
that  made  by  Oliphant ;  Fleay  gives  Fletcher  all  of  act  i, 
scene  i,  andv,  3,  4;  Boyle,  only  v,  3,  4.  The  following 
scenes  are  wholly  or  largely  prose,  and  their  assignment 
to  Beaumont  by  the  critics  rests  on  no  very  conclusive 
evidence  —  i,  la  (to  entry  of  king)  ;  iv,  ij  v,  i.  The 
remainder  of  the  play  is  assigned  to  Beaumont  by  all 
critics  —  i,  2;  ii,  i,  3,  4a  (to  reentry  of  Dion)  ;  iii,  i,  2 
(in  part);  iv,  2,  3,  4  ;  v,  2,  5. 

The  separation  of  the  verse  of  the  two  authors  by  no 
means  determines  the  exact  share  of  each  in  the  total  cre- 
ative work.  Who  invented  ?  who  suggested  ?  and  who 
corrected  ?  are  questions  that  even  they  themselves 
might  have  found  it  difficult  to  answer.  In  Philaster,  one 
of  the  earliest  of  the  joint  plays,  there  are  indications 
that  the  two  poets  worked  on  the  same  scenes  in  a  way 
that  baffles  exact  analysis  to-day;  but  here  Fletcher's 
share  seems  subsidiary  and  supplementary.  He  wrote  at 
least  a  part  of  the  first  scene,  contributed  parts  of  the 
Megra-Pharamond  story,  and  the  lively  account  of  the 
insurrection,  but  had  little  to  do  with  the  development 
of  the  main  action  or  with  the  most  important  situations  ; 
none  of  the  scenes  indeed  seem  absolutely  free  from 
Beaumont's  hand.  In  the  Maid's  Tragedy,  the  collabor- 
ation was  more  distinct ;  and  there,  though  Beaumont's 
share  is  much  the  larger,  Fletcher's  scenes  are  among  the 
most  important  in  the  play  and  present  Aspatia,  Evadne, 
and  Philaster  in  some  of  their  most  characteristic  mo- 


3]ntroDuctton 

ments.  In  these  two  plays  and  in  the  other  heroic  ro- 
mances Beaumont's  share  seems  predominant,  and  from 
these  plays,  together  with  the  Knight  of  the  Burning 
Pestle,  we  draw  most  of  our  inferences  in  respect  to  the 
qualities  of  his  genius.  The  two  friends,  however,  har- 
monized their  sentiments,  modes  of  thought,  and  inter- 
pretations of  character  better  than  their  methods  of  versi- 
fication ;  and  any  attempts  to  restrict  a  particular  mental 
attitude  to  the  one  is  likely  to  be  frustrated  by  its  appear- 
ance in  verse  unmistakably  by  the  other.  Each  doubtless 
deserves,  what  each  has  long  received,  a  share  in  the 
credit  for  the  plot,  situations,  characters,  style,  and  senti- 
ments of  Pbilaster  and  the  Maid''}  Tragedy. 


TEXT 

The  first  quarto,  1619,  presents  an  abbreviated,  mangled,  and  evi- 
dently unauthorized  text.  The  second  quarto,  1622,  "  Newly  pe- 
rused, augmented  and  inlarged,"  is  much  less  corrupt,  but  contains 
some  verbal  alterations  that  are  not  improvements  on  Qi.  The 
third  quarto,  1630,  presents  for  the  first  time  the  names  of  the  au- 
thors and  the  "  Censure  "  of  the  stationer,  Richard  Hawkins.  A 
few  of  its  corrections  have  been  approved  by  modern  editors.  Four 
other  quartos,  in  the  main  agreeing  with  £3,  were  published  before 
1679,  when  the  play  was  included  in  the  Second  Folio,  reprinted 
apparently  from  Q6.  No  edition,  it  will  be  noted,  was  printed  during 
Beaumont's  lifetime  :  none  for  some  ten  years  after  the  play  was 
written,  circa  1 609  ;  and  apparently  none  received  any  direct  re- 
vision from  either  author,  though  Qa  undoubtedly  is  the  best  au- 
thority. Under  these  circumstances  an  edition  of  the  play  must  be 
eclectic,  based  on  the  first  three  quartos,  and  availing  itself  of  correc- 
tions in  the  later  quartos  and  folio  and  in  the  editions  of  modern  ed- 
itors, Theobald  (Th),  Weber  (W),  Dyce  (D),  and  Daniel  in  the 
recent  variorum  edition  under  the  general  supervision  of  Mr.  A.  H. 
Bullen  (B). 

The  present  edition  follows  Qz,  but  frequently  readings  from  Qi 
have  been  adopted,  and  all  variants  that  have  any  claim  to  recog- 
nition have  been  given  in  the  notes,  especially  those  of  Qi  and  Q$. 
The  variants  of  Leonhardt  and  of  Daniel  have  been  compared  with 
the  original  editions,  and  a  number  of  minor  corrections  have  been 
made  in  their  records  of  the  quartos.  The  variants  of  the  later 
quartos,  the  folio,  and  the  modern  editors  are  recorded  only  when 
of  importance  to  the  text ;  in  the  case  of  accepted  emendations, 
usually  only  the  name  of  the  editor  responsible  has  been  given,  but 
the  variants  of  Dyce  and  Daniel  from  the  present  text  are  specific- 
ally noted.  The  arrangement  of  the  verse  lines  is  based  on  Dyce. 
The  quartos  are  here  very  uncertain  guides,  but  important  devia- 
tions from  Qz,  D,  or  B,  are  recorded  in  the  notes.  In  accord  with 
the  practice  of  the  Belles-Ltttres  Series,  the  spelling  of  Qz  has  been 


xlvi 

kept,  all  additions  to  its  text  or  stage-directions  are  enclosed  in 
brackets,  and  all  variations  from  the  letter  of  that  edition  except 
obvious  misprints  are  noted.  The  punctuation  and  capitalization  have 
been  modernized,  but  the  old  punctuation  has  been  retained  when 
possible,  and  the  old  abbreviations,  involving  apostrophes,  have 
been  preserved.  The  past  participles  in  -ed,  -'d,  -t,  have  also  been 
retained  as  in  Qz,  even  when  a  different  pronunciation  of  the  final 
syllable  is  rendered  necessary  by  the  versification.  Any  stage-direc- 
tions which  seem  in  the  early  editions  to  have  been  placed  merely 
where  the  length  of  the  lines  permit,  have  been  placed  where  the 
indicated  actions  should  occur,  with  a  note  among  the  variants  on 
the  original  position.  Aside,  often  printed  at  the  end  of  a  line  or 
speech,  is  uniformly  placed  before  its  line  or  speech.  Explanation  of 
the  abbreviations  used  in  referring  to  the  various  editions  will  be  found 
in  the  Bibliography. 


The  Maids  Tragedie. 

AS    IT    HATH    B  EENE 

diuers  times  A 61  eel  at  the  'Slack- Friers  by 
(he  Kings  Maiefties  Seruants. 

Newly  perufcd,  augmented,  and  inlarged,  This  fecond  Impreffion. 


LONDON, 

Printed  for  Francis  Conflable^  and  are 

to  be  fold  at  the  White  LION  in 

ftuls  Church-yard.  1611. 


SOURCES 

There  is  nothing  to  add  to  Dyce's  statement  in  his  collective 
edition  that  "  the  source  from  which  the  incidents  of  this  drama 
were  derived,  has  not  been  discovered."  He  noted  a  resemblance 
between  Aspatia's  duel  with  Amintor  and  the  combat  between 
Parthenia  and  Amphialus  in  the  third  book  of  Sidney's  Arcadia. 
The  quarrel  of  Melantius  and  Amintor  in  Act  in  owes  something 
to  that  of  Brutus  and  Cassius  in  Julius  Ctesar.  The  character  and 
story  of  Aspatia  are  to  some  extent  paralleled  by  those  of  Bellario  in 
Philaster  and  Urania  in  Cupid'1 's  Revenge  ;  and  other  parallelisms  in 
characters  and  situations  can  be  traced  with  the  other  romances  of 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher. 


SPEAKERS. 


KING. 

LISIPPUS,  brother  to  the  KING. 
AMINTOR,  [a  noble  Gentleman.] 
EVADNE,  wife  to  AMINTOR. 


ASPATIA,  troth-plight  wife  to  AMINTOR. 

CALLIANAX,  an  old  humorous  Lord,  and  father  to  ASPATIA. 


DIAGORAS,  a  servant. 

OUMPIAS"*'  1  WaitinS  Gentlewomen  to  ASPATIA. 

DULA,  a  Lady. 

NIGHT,       ) 

CINTHIA,    lMagker, 

NEPTUNE,  f  M 

EOLUS,        J 

[Sea  Gods,  Winds, 

Lords,  Gentlemen,  Servants,  &c. 

SCENE,  RHODES.] 
[THE   STATIONERS   CENSURE. 

Good  wjne  requires  no  bush,  they  say, 
And  7,  no  prologue  such  a  play  : 
The  makers  therefore  did  forebeare 
To  have  that  grace  prefixed  here. 
But  cease  here,  Censure,  least  the  buyer 
Hold  thee  in  this  a  vaine  supplyer. 
My  office  is  to  set  it  forth, 
Where  fame  applauds  its  reale  worth.] 

a  noble  Gentleman.     Added  in  Q], 
Sea  Gads  .  .  .  Rhodes.     Supplied  by  modern  editors. 
Censure.    The  lines,  not  in  Ql  and  Uz,  are  in  Q}-Q6  printed  after  the 
Dramatis  Personal. 


ACTUS  I.      SCAEN  I. 

\An  Apartment  in  the  Palace.~\ 

Enter  Clean,  Strata,  Lisippus,  Dipbilus. 

Clean.  The  rest  are  making  ready,  sir. 
Lysippus.  So  let  them ;  theres  time  enough. 
Dipbilus.  You  are   the  brother  to  the  King, 

my  lord ; 
Weele  take  your  word. 

Lys.  Strato,  thou  hast  some  skill  in  poetrie; 
What  think'st  [thou]    of  the  mask  ?  will  it  be 

well  ? 

Strato.  As  well  as  masks  can  be. 
Lys.  As  masks  can  be  ! 

Stra.  Yes;   they  must  commend  their  king, 

&  speake  in  praise 
Of  the   assembly,  blesse  the  bride   and  bride- 

groome 

In  person  of  some  god  :  they'r  tied  to  rules 
Of  flatterie. 

Cle.          See,  good  my  lord,  who  is  return'd  ! 

2  Lysippus,  Qi.    Qa-F,  Stra. 

6  tbou,  Qi .      the  mask.    Qq,  F,  a  mask,  corrected  by  Seward. 


4  &ty  spaces  tErageap        [ACT  i. 

Enter  Melantius. 

Lys.  Noble  Melantius,  the  land  by  me 
Welcomes  thy  vertues  home  to  Rhodes ; 
Thou  that  with  blood  abroad  buyest  our  peace ! 
The  breath  of  kings  is  like  the  breath  of  gods ;     15 
My  brother  wisht  thee  here,  and  thou  art  here ; 
He  will  be  too  kind,  and  wearie  thee 
With  often  welcomes ;  but  the  time  doth  give 

thee 
A  welcome  above  his  or  all  the  worlds. 

Melantius.    My  lord,  my  thankes ;  but  these 

scratcht  limbes  of  mine  zo 

Have  spoke  my  love  and  truth  unto  my  friends 
More  then   my  tongue  ere  could.    My  mind's 

the  same 

It  ever  was  to  you ;  where  I  finde  worth, 
I  love  the  keeper  till  he  let  it  goe, 
And  then  I  follow  it. 

Diph.  Haile,  worthy  brother;       15 

He  that  rejoyces  not  at  your  returne 
In  safety  is  mine  enemie  forever. 

Mel.    I  thanke  thee,  Diphilus.    But  thou  art 

faultie ; 
I  sent  for  thee  to  exercise  thine  armes 

13   co  Rhodes.    Qi  and  B  omit. 

1 7  be  too  kind.    Qi ,  be  kind.    B,  be  too-too  kind. 

23  It.  The  scene  from  the  beginning  through  this  word  is 
printed  as  prose  in  Qq  and  F.  It  continues  as  prose  through  1.  24 
in  £6  and  F. 


.] 

With  me  at  Patria ;  thou  cam'st  not,  Diphilus ;  30 
Twas  ill. 

Diph.       My  noble  brother,  my  excuse 
Is  my  king's  strict  command,  which  you,  my 

lord, 
Can  witnesse  with  me. 

Lys.  Tis  [most]  true,  Melantius; 

He  might  not  come  till  the  solemnities 
Of  this  great  match  were  past. 

Diph.  Have  you  heard  of  it  ?  35 

Mel.    Yes,  and   have  given  cause  to  those 

that  here 

Envy  my  deeds  abroad  to  call  me  gamesome. 
I  have  no  other  businesse  heere  at  Rhodes. 
Lys.  We   have  a  maske  to-night,  and  you 

must  tread 

A  souldiers  measure.  40 

Mel.  These  soft  and  silken  wars  are  not  for 

me; 

The  musicke  must  be  shrill  and  all  confus'd 
That  stirres  my  bloud ;  and  then  I  dance  with 

armes. 
But  is  Amintor  wed  ? 

Diph.  This  day. 

32  strict.    Qi,  straight. 

33  most,  Qi.     Omitted  in  Qz  et  al. 

34  solemnities ,  Qi.    Solemnitie  in  other  Qq  and  F. 

36   Tes  .  .  .  here.    So  in  Qi.    Qz,  Yes  I  have  given  cause  to 
those  that. 


[ACT  i. 

Mel.    All  joyes   upon   him !    for   he   is   my 

friend.  45 

Wonder  not  that  I  call  a  man  so  young  my 

friend : 

His  worth  is  great ;  valiant  he  is  and  temperate ; 
And  one  that  never  thinkes  his  life  his  owne, 
If  his  friend  neede  it.    When  he  was  a  boy, 
As  oft  as  I  return'd  (as,  without  boast,  50 

I  brought  home  conquest),  he  would  gaze  upon 

me 

And  view  me  round,  to  finde  in  what  one  limbe 
The  vertue  lay  to  doe  these  things  he  heard  j 
Then  would  he  wish  to  see  my  sword,  and  feele 
The  quicknesse  of  the  edge,  and  in  his  hand        55 
Weigh  it :  he  oft  would  make  me  smile  at  this. 
His  youth  did  promise  much,  and  his  ripe  yeares 
Will  see  it  all  performd. 

Enter  Aspatia,  passing  l>y. 

Haile,  maid  and  wife  ! 
Thou  faire  Aspatia,  may  the  holy  knot, 
That  thou  hast  tied  to-day,  last  till  the  hand        60 
Of  age  undoe't !  mayst  thou  bring  a  race 
Unto  Amintor,  that  may  fill  the  world 
Successively  with  souldiers  ! 

Aspatia.  My  hard  fortunes 

Deserve  not  scorne,  for  I  was  never  proud 
When  they  were  good.  Exit  Aspatia. 

Enter  .  .  .  by.    Qi,  Enter  Aspatia  passing  with  attendance. 


SCENE  i.] 

Mel.  Howes  this  ? 

Lys.  You  are  mistaken,  sir ;    65 

She  is  not  married. 

Mel.  You  said  Amintor  was. 

Diph.  Tis  true ;  but — 

Mel.  Pardon  me;  I  did  receive 

Letters  at  Patria  from  my  Amintor, 
That  he  should  marrie  her. 

Diph.  And  so  it  stood 

In  all  opinion  long  ;  but  your  arrivall  70 

Made  me  imagine  you  had  heard  the  change. 

Mel.  Who  hath  he  taken  then  ? 

Lys.  A  ladie,  sir, 

That  beares  the  light  above  her,  and  strikes  dead 
With  flashes  of  her  eye ;  the  faire  Evadne, 
Your  vertuous  sister. 

Mel.  Peace  of  heart  betwixt  them  !  75 

But  this  is  strange. 

Lys.  The  King,  my  brother,  did  it 

To  honor  you,  and  these  solemnities 
Are  at  his  charge. 

Mel.  Tis  royall  like  himselfe.    But  I  am  sad, 
My  speech  beares  so  unfortunate  a  sound  80 

To  beautifull  Aspatia.    There  is  rage 
Hid  in  her  fathers  breast,  Calianax, 
Bent  long  against  me ;  and  he  should  not  thinke, 

65  «>t  fi»-  Q*>  f°r- 

73  above.   Qi,aboue;  Qz,  about.    See  note. 


8  Wqt  ^a^Desf  tEfrage&E        [ACT  L 


If  I  could  call  it  backe,  that  I  would  take 

So  base  revenges  as  to  scorne  the  state  85 

Of  his  neglected  daughter.    Holds  he  still 

His  greatnesse  with  the  King? 

Lys.  Yes.    But  this  lady 

Walkes  discontented,  with  her  watrie  eies 
Bent  on  the  earth.    The  unfrequented  woods 
Are  her  delight  ;  where,  when  she  sees  a  bancke  90 
Stucke  full  of  flowers,  shee  with  a  sigh  will  tell 
Her  servants  what  a  prittie  place  it  were 
To  burie  lovers  in  ;  and  make  her  maids 
Pluck  'em  and  strow  her  over  like  a  corse. 
She  carries  with  her  an  infectious  griefe  95 

That  strikes  all  her  beholders.   She  will  sing 
The  mournfulst  things  that  ever  eare  hath  heard, 
And  sigh,  and  sing  againe  ;  and  when  the  rest 
Of  our  young  ladyes,  in  their  wanton  bloud, 
Tell  mirthfull  tales  in  course,  that  fill  the  roomeioo 
With  laughter,  she  will  with  so  sad  a  looke 
Bring  forth  the  story  of  the  silent  death 
Of  some  forsaken  virgin,  which  her  griefe 
Will  put  in  such  a  phrase  that,  ere  she  end, 
Shee'le  send  them  weeping  one  by  one  away.       105 

Mel.  She  has  a  brother  under  my  command, 
Like  her,  a  face  as  womanish  as  hers, 
But  with  a  spirit  that  hath  much  outgrowne 
The  number  of  his  yeares. 

84  If  I  could.    Qi,  B,  Could  I  but.     90  -where,  Qi.    Qa-F,  and. 


SCENE  I.] 

Enter  Amintor. 

Cle.  My  lord  the  bridegroome  \ 

Mel.  I    might    runne    fiercely,    not     more 

hastily,  no 

Upon  my  foe.    I  love  thee  well,  Amintor ; 
My  mouth  is  much  too  narrow  for  my  heart ; 
I  joy  to  looke  upon  those  eies  of  thine ; 
Thou  art  my  friend,  but  my  disordered  speech 
Cuts  off  my  love. 

Amintor.  Thou  art  Melantius;  "5 

All  love  is  spoke  in  that.    A  sacrifice, 
To  thanke  the  gods  Melantius  is  return'd 
In  safety  !  Victory  sits  on  his  sword 
As  she  was  wont.    May  she   build  there   and 

dwell ; 

And  may  thy  armour  be,  as  it  hath  beene,  iao 

Only  thy  valor  and  thine  innocence  ! 
What  endlesse  treasures  would  our  enemies  give 
That  I  might  hold  thee  still  thus  ! 

Mel.  I  am  poore 

In  words  ;  but  credit  me,  young  man,  thy  mother 
Could  [do]  no  more  but  weep  for  joy  to  see  thee  1*5 
After  long  absence.    All  the  wounds  I  have, 
Fetcht  not  so  much  away,  nor  all  the  cries 
Of  widowed  mothers.    But  this  is  peace, 
And  that  was  warre. 

109  My  lord  the.  Th,  D,  comma  after  lord,  no  fiercely. 
Coleridge,  more  fiercely.  123-125  That  .  .  .  tbee.  So  arranged 
by  Th.  Qq  and  F  end  lines  with  thus  .  .  .  man  .  .  .  tbee. 

1*5  do.    Only  in  Qi.  126  ba-ve.    B,  gave. 


io  Wqt  spaces  tErage&i?       [ACT  i. 

Amin.  Pardon,  thou  holy  god 

Of  mariage-bed,  and  frowne  not ;  I  am  forc'd, 13° 
In  answer  of  such  noble  teares  as  those, 
To  weepe  upon  my  wedding-day ! 

Mel.  I  feare  thou  art  growne  too  fickle,  for  I 

heare 

A  lady  mournes  for  thee,  men  say,  to  death, 
Forsaken  of  thee,  on  what  termes  I  know  not.  135 
Amin.  She  had  my   promise ;  but  the  King 

forbade  it, 
And  made  me  make  this  worthy  change,  thy 

sister, 

Accompanied  with  graces  [far]  above  her, 
With  whom  I  long  to  lose  my  lusty  youth 
And  grow  old  in  her  armes. 

Mel.  Be  prosperous !       14° 

Enter  Messenger. 

Messenger.  My  lord,  the  maskers  rage  for  you. 
Lys.  We  are  gone.  — 

Cleon,  Strato,  Diphilus  ! 

Amin.   Weele  all  attend  you.  — 

[Exeunt  Lysippus,  Clean,  Strata,  Dipbilus, 
and  Messenger, ,] 

We  shall  trouble  you 
With  our  solemnities. 

131   thou.    Qi,  these.    133  fickle.    Qi,   cruell ;  Q3-F,  sicke. 
138  far  above,  Th.    Qi,  Qz,  about ;  Q3,  above. 
141   Messenger.    Qi,  Amint.    Q^  to  F,  Serv. 
Exeunt  .   .    .   Messenger.     This  stage-direction  is  found  only  in 
Qi,  which  omits  and  Messenger. 


n 

Mel.  Not  so,  Amintor ; 

But  if  you  laugh  at  my  rude  cariage  145 

In  peace,  I'll  do  as  much  for  you  in  warre, 
When  you  come  thither.     But  I  have  a  mistresse 
To  bring  to  your  delights  j  rough  though  I  am, 
I  have  a  mistresse,  and  she  has  a  heart, 
She  saies ;  but,  trust  me,  it  is  stone,  no  better;  150 
There  is  no  place  that  I  can  challenge  in't. 
But  you  stand  still,  and  here  my  way  lies. 

Exeunt. 

[SCENE  II.    A  Hall  in  the  Palace,  with  a  Gallery 
full  of  Spectators.] 

Enter  Calianax  with  Diagoras. 

Calianax.  Diagoras,  looke  to  the  doores  bet- 
ter, for  shame !  you  let  in  all  the  world,  and 
anone  the  King  will  raile  at  me.  Why,  very 
well  said.  By  Jove,  the  King  will  have  the 
show  i'  th'  court.  5 

Diagoras.  Why  doe  you  sweare  so,  my  lord  ? 
you  know  heele  have  it  heere. 

Cal.  By  this  light,  if  he  be  wise,  he  will  not. 

Diag.  And  if  he  will  not  be  wise,  you  are 
forsworne.  10 

Cal.  One    may    weare    his    heart    out    with 

151   in't,  Q3  to  F.    Qi,  challenge  gentlemen.    Qa  omits. 
Exeunt.     Qz,  Exit.  5  ;'  tA\    Qa  misprints  i'  th  the. 

1 1  may  weare  his  heart  out,  so  F ;  Qzt  may  sweare  out  his  heart ; 
Qi,  must  sweat  out  his  heart. 


12 

swearing,  and  get  thankes  on  no  side.  He  be 
gone,  look  too't  who  will. 

Diag.  My  lord,  I  shall  never  keepe  them  out. 
Pray  stay  j  your  lookes  will  terrific  them. 

Cal.  My  looks  terrific  them,  you  coxcombly 
asse,  you  !  He  be  judge  [d]  by  all  the  company 
whether  thou  hast  not  a  worse  face  then  I. 

Diag.  I  meane  because  they  know  you  and 
your  office. 

Cal.  Office  !  I  would  I  could  put  it  off !  I  am 
sure  I  sweat  quite  through  my  office.  I  might 
have  made  roome  at  my  daughters  wedding ;  — 
they  ha  nere  kild  her  amongst  them,  and  now 
I  must  doe  service  for  him  that  hath  forsaken 
her.  Serve  that  will !  Exit  Calianax. 

Diag.  Hee's  so  humorous  since  his  daughter 
was  forsaken!  {Knocke  within.'}  Harke,  harke ! 
there,  there  !  so,  so  !  codes,  codes  !  What  now. 

Melantius  {within}.  Open  the  doore. 

Diag.   Who's  there  ? 

Mel.  [within].   Melantius. 

Diag.  I  hope  your  lordship  brings  no  troope 
with  you ;  for,  if  you  doe,  I  must  returne  them. 

[Opens  the  door.] 
Enter  Melantius  and  a  Lady. 

Mel.  None  but  this  lady,  sir. 

Diag.  The  ladies  are  all  plac'd  above,  save 

17  judged,  Q4  et  al.  Qzt  Q%,  judge.  Qi,  iudgde.  a8  Knockt 
•within,  30  within.  Qq,  F,  print  after  1.  29,  -within  Knocke  -within. 


SCENE  II.]         l&ty  tytyKtS  Wto%tty  13 

those  that  come  in  the  Kings  troope ;  the  best 
of  Rhodes  sit  there,  and  theres  roome. 

Mel.  I  thanke  you,  sir.  —  When  I  have  scene 
you  placed,  madam,  I  must  attend   the   King;  40 
but  the  maske  done,  lie  waite  on  you  againe. 

Diag.  [opening  another  door].  Stand  backe 
there!  Roome  for  my  lord  Melantius  !  [Exit  Me- 
lantius ^  Lady,  other  doore.~\  —  Pray  beare  backe — 
this  is  no  place  for  such  youth  and  their  truls  —  let  45 
the  dores  shut  agen.  —  No !  —  do  your  heads  itch  ? 
lie  scratch  them  for  you.  [Shuts  the  door.]  — 
So,  now  thrust  and  hang.  [Knoc&ing  within.]  — 
Againe  !  Who  is't  now  ?  —  I  cannot  blame  my 
Lord  Calianax  for  going  away.  Would  he  were  5° 
here !  he  would  run  raging  amongst  them  and 
breake  a  dozen  wiser  heads  than  his  own  in  the 
twinckling  of  an  eie.  —  Whats  the  newes  now  ? 

\Voice\  within.  I  pray  you,  can  you  helpe 
mee  to  the  speech  of  the  master-cooke  ?  55 

Diag.  If  I  open  the  dore,  He  cooke  some  of 
your  calves-heads.  Peace  rogues !  \_Knockingwith- 
in.~\  — Againe!  who  is't  ? 

Mel.  (within).  Melantius. 

Enter  Calianax,  to  Melantius. 

Cal.  Let  him  not  in.  6o 

43   Exit  .  .  .  doore.   Only  in  Qi,  which  places  the  exit  after  1.  41. 
46  No,  Qi.    Q2  et  al.,  I.    $1  wiser.    Qi  omits. 
59  -within.    After  Melantius  in  Qq. 


14  3H)e  Spaces  ^rageup       [ACT  i. 

Diag.  O,  my  lord,  a  must.  [Opening  the  door. ,] 
—  Make  roome  there  for  my  lord.  —  Is  your 
lady  plac't  ? 

\Enter  MelantiuiJ\ 

Mel.  Yes,  sir. 

I  thanke  you.  —  My  Lord  Calianax,  well  met.    65 
Your  causelesse  hate  to  me  I  hope  is  buried. 

Cal.  Yes,  I  doe  service  for  your  sister  here, 
That  brings  mine  owne  poore  child  to  timelesse 

death  ; 

She  loves  your  friend  Amintor;  such  another 
False-hearted  lord  as  you. 

Mel.  You  doe  me  wrong,     7° 

A  most  unmanly  one,  and  I  am  slow 
In  taking  vengeance ;  but  be  well  advis'd. 

Cal.  It  may  be  so.  Who  plac'd  the  lady  there 
So  neere  the  presence  of  the  King  ? 

Mel.  I  did. 

Cal.  My  lord,  she  must  not  sit  there. 

Mel.  Why?  75 

Cal.  The  place  is  kept  for  women  of  more 
worth. 

Mel.  More  worth  than  she  !    It  misbecomes 

your  age 

And  place  to  be  thus  womanish  :  forbeare  ! 
What  you  have  spoke,  I  am  content  to  thinke 
The  palsey  shooke  your  tongue  to. 

Enter  Melantius.    Only  in  Ql. 


SCENE  II.]         Qfyt  ^^t&  1&Wi$tty  15 

Cal.  Why,  tis  well,  80 

If  I  stand  here  to  place  mens  wenches. 

Mel.  I 

Shall    [quite]    forget    this    place,  thy   age,   my 

safety, 

And,  through  all,  cut  that  poor  sickly  weeke 
Thou  hast  to  live  away  from  thee. 

Cal.  Nay,  I  know    you  can    fight  for  your 

whore.  8  5 

Mel.  Bate  [me]  the  King,  and,  be  hee  flesh 

and  blood, 

A  lies  that  says  it !    Thy  mother  at  fifteene 
Was  blacke  and  sinfull  to  her. 

Diag.  Good  my  lord  — 

Mel.  Some  god  pluck  threescore  yeeres  from 

that  fond  man, 

That  I  may  kill  him,  and  not  staine  mine  honor !  90 
It  is  the  curse  of  souldiers,  that  in  peace 
They  shall  be  braved  by  such  ignoble  men, 
As,  if  the  land  were  troubled,  would  with  teares 
And  knees  beg  succor  from  'em.    Would  that 

blood, 

That  sea  of  blood,  that  I  have  lost  in  fight,          95 
Were  running  in  thy  veines,  that  it  might  make 

thee 
Apt  to  say  lesse,  or  able  to  maintaine, 

8  a  quite.    Only  in  Qi.          83  through.    Theobald,  thorough. 
86  me.    Only  in  Qi.  94  that.    Qi,  D,  B,  the. 


1 6 

Should'st  thou  say  more  !  This  Rhodes,  I  see,  is 

nought 
But  a  place  priviledg'd  to  do  men  wrong. 

Cal.  I,  you  may  say  your  pleasure.  i°o 

Enter  Amintor. 

Amintor.   What  vilde  injurie 
Has  sturd  my  worthy  friend,  who  is  as  slow 
To  fight  with  words  as  he  is  quick  of  hand  ? 
Mel.  That  heape  of  age,  which  I  should  rev- 
erence 

If  it  were  temperate,  but  testie  yeeres  105 

Are  most  contemptible. 

Amin.  Good  sir,  forbeare. 

Cal.  There  is  just  such  another  as  yourselfe. 
Amin.   He  will  wrong  you,   or    me,  or  any 

man, 

And  talke  as  if  he  had  no  life  to  lose, 
Since  this  our  match.    The  King  is  comming  in ;  no 
I  would  not  for  more  wealth  than  I  enjoy 
He  should  perceive  you  raging ;  he  did  heare 
You  were  at  difference  now,  which  hastned  him. 

Hoboyes  play  within. 
Cal.  Make  roome  there  ! 
Enter  King,  Evadne,  Aspatia,  Lords  and  Ladies. 
King.  Melantius,  thou  art  welcome,  and  my 

love  115 

Is  with  thee  still ;  but  this  is  not  a  place 
To  brabble  in.  —  Calianax,  joyne  hands. 

103  hand.    Qi,  B,  hands. 


SCENE  II.] 

CaL  Hee  shall  not  have  mine  hand. 

King.  This  is  no  time 

To  force  you  too't.    I  do  love  you  both  : — 
Calianax,  you  looke  well  to  your  office  ; —          120 
And  you,  Melantius,  are  welcome  home. — 
Begin  the  maske. 

Mel.  Sister,  I  joy  to  see  you  and  your  choyse. 
You  lookt  with  my  eies  when  you  tooke  that 

man  ; 
Be  happy  in  him  !  Recorders. 

Evadne.  O,  my  deerest  brother,  125 

Your  presence  is  more  joyful  then  this  day 
Can  be  unto  me. 

THE  MASKE 

Night  rises  in  mists. 

Night.   Our  reigne  is  come  5  for  in  the  raging  sea 
The  sun  is  drownd,  and  with  him  fell  the  Day. 
Bright  Cinthia,  heare  my  voice !    I  am  the  Night,  1 30 

For  whom  thou  bearst  about  thy  borrowed  light. 
Appeare !  no  longer  thy  pale  visage  shrowde, 
But  strike  thy  silver  homes  quite  through  a  cloud, 
And  send  a  beame  upon  my  swarthie  face, 
By  which  I  may  discover  all  the  place  135 

And  persons,  and  how  many  longing  eies 
Are  come  to  waite  on  our  solemnities. 

Enter  Cynthia. 

How  dull  and  blacke  am  I !    I  could  not  finde 
This  beautie  without  thee,  I  am  so  blinde. 
128  raging.    Qi,  quenching. 


1 8  Wqt  Sprues 

Methinkes  they  shew  like  to  those  easterne  streakes,          140 
That  wame  us  hence  before  the  morning  breakes. 
Back,  my  pale  servant!  for  these  eies  know  how 
To  shoote  farre  more  and  quicker  rayes  then  thou. 

Cynthia.   Great  queen,  they  be  a  troope  for  whom  alone 
One  of  my  clearest  moones  I  have  put  on  ;  145 

A  troope  that  lookes  as  if  thyselfe  and  I 
Had  pluckt  our  reines  in  and  our  whips  laid  by, 
To  gaze  upon  these  mortals,  that  appeare 
Brighter  than  we. 

Night.  Then  let  us  keepe  'em  here, 

And  never  more  our  chariots  drive  away,  150 

But  hold  our  places  and  outshine  the  Day. 

Cynth.   Great  queene  of  shaddowes,  you  are  pleasde  to 

speake 

Of  more  then  may  be  done  ;  we  may  not  breake 
The  gods  decrees  ;  but,  when  our  time  is  come, 
Must  drive  away,  and  give  the  Day  our  roome.  155 

Yet,  whilst  our  raigne  lasts,  let  us  stretch  our  power 
To  give  our  servants  one  contented  houre, 
With  such  unwonted  solemne  grace  and  state, 
As  may  for  ever  after  force  them  hate 

Our  brothers  glorious  beames,  and  wish  the  Night,  160 

Crown' d  with  a  thousand  starres  and  our  cold  light ; 
For  almost  all  the  world  their  service  bend 
To  Phoebus,  and  in  vaine  my  light  I  lend, 
Gaz'd  on  unto  my  setting  from  my  rise 
Almost  of  none  but  of  unquiet  eyes.  165 

Night.   Then  shine  at    full,  faire   queene,   &  by  thy 

power 
Produce  a  birth,  to  crowne  this  happy  houre, 

151   hold.    So  F  and  Qq,  except  Qz,  which  misprints,  keepe. 
156  ivAilst.   Qz,  whil'st.    Qi  omits  lines  156-165. 
1 60  -wish,  Q3-F.    Qi,  with. 


SCENE  II.]         {£1)0  ^321)00  t!fr3g0&1?  1 9 

Of  nymphes  and  shepheards  ;  let  their  songs  discover, 

Easie  and  sweete,  who  is  a  happy  lover  ; 

Or,  if  thou  woo't,  then  call  thine  owne  Endimion  170 

From  the  sweete  flowrie  bed  he  lies  upon, 

On  Latmus'  top,  thy  pale  beames  drawne  away, 

And  of  his  long  night  let  him  make  a  day. 

Cynth.   Thou  dreamst,  darke  queene  ;  that  faire  boy 

was  not  mine, 

Nor  went  I  downe  to  kisse  him.    Ease  and  wine  i?5 

Have  bred  these  bold  tales  ;  poets,  when  they  rage, 
Turne  gods  to  men,  and  make  an  houre  an  age. 
But  I  will  give  a  greater  state  and  glory, 
And  raise  to  time  a  noble  [r]  memory 

Of  what  these  lovers  are.  —  Rise,  rise,  I  say,  1 80 

Thou  power  of  deepes,  thy  surges  laid  away, 
Neptune,  great  king  of  waters,  and  by  me 
Be  proud  to  be  commanded  ! 

Neptune  rises. 

Neptune.  Cinthia,  see, 

Thy  word  hath  fetcht  me  hither ;  let  me  know 
Why  I  ascend. 

Cyntb.  Doth  this  majesticke  show  185 

Give  thee  no  knowledge  yet  ? 

Nep.  Yes,  now  I  see 

Something  entended,  Cinthia,  worthy  thee. 
Go  on  ;  He  be  a  helper. 

Cyntb.  Hie  thee,  then, 

And  charge  the  Winde  flic  from  his  rockie  den, 

170  woo't.   Qz,  w'oo't.          then  call.    Qi,  B,  omit. 

171  bed.    Qi,  banck.  172,  top.    Qi,  B,  brow. 

173  And  of  bis  ...   a  day,  so  D.   Qa,  this  long  night  .   . 
this  day  ;  Qi,  his  ...   thy  ;  £3,  this  ...   a. 
179  nailer ,  so  Qi. 
i89j/?/>,  Q3-F.    Qi,22,  goe. 


20  W$t  jpatfietf  {Erage&i?       [ACT  i. 


Let  loose  his  subjects  ;  onely  Boreas,  190 

Too  foule  for  our  intentions  as  he  was, 

Still  keep  him  fast  chaind  :  we  must  have  none  here 

But  vernall  blasts  and  gentle  winds  appeare, 

Such  as  blow  flowers  and  through  the  glad  bowes  sing 

Many  soft  welcomes  to  the  lusty  spring  ;  195 

These  are  our  musicke.    Next,  thy  watrie  race 

Bring  on  in  couples  (we  are  pleasd  to  grace 

This  noble  night),  each  in  their  richest  things 

Your  owne  deepes  or  the  broken  vessell  brings. 

Be  prodigall,  and  I  shall  be  as  kind  200 

And  shine  at  full  upon  you. 

Nep.  Oh,  the  Wind  ! 

Commanding  Eolus  ! 

Enter  Eolus  out  of  a  Rocke. 

JEolui.  Great  Neptune  ! 

Nept.  He. 

JEol.    What  is  thy  will  ? 

Nep.  We  doe  command  thee,  free 

Favonius  and  thy  milder  winds  to  waite 
Upon  our  Cinthia  ;  but  tie  Boreas  straight,  205 

Hee's  too  rebellious. 

JEol.  I  shall  doe  it. 

Nep.  Doe.  [Exit  JEolus.'} 

\_&olus,  'within.'}  Great  master  of  the  floud  and  all 
below, 

190  his,  Qi.    Q2,  thy. 

196-97   These  .    .    .   couples.   Qi  reads: 

Bid  them  draw  neere  to  have  thy  watrie  race 

Led  on  in  couples,  we  are  pleas'd  to  grace 

See  Notes  for  proposed  emendations. 

201  Oh.  Qi,  See;  Q3,  Hoe.  Wind  I  So  Dyce.  Theo, 

W,  and  B  insert  a  hyphen  after  -wind;  no  punctuation  in  Qq,  F. 

2.04  Favonius.    Q2,  Fanonius. 

207-08  Great  ...  0,  the.  This  arrangement  of  the  text  is  due  to 
Theobald.  In  Qi,  Q2,  bolus's  speech  begins  with,  0,  the  Maine  ! 


SCENE  II.]         ^0  $3^0  Q£W%tty  21 

Thy  full  command  has  taken.  — O,  the  Maine! 
Neptune! 

Nep.      Heere. 
[Re-enter  &olus,  followed  by  Favoniusand  other  Winds.] 

jEol.  Boreas  has  broke  his  chaine 

And,  strugling  with  the  rest,  has  got  away.  210 

Nep.   Let  him  alone  ;  He  take  him  up  at  sea  ; 
He  will  not  long  be  thence.    Goe  once  againe, 
And  call  out  of  the  bottomes  of  the  maine 
Blew  Proteus  and  the  rest ;  charge  them  put  on 
Their  greatest  pearles,  and  the  most  sparkling  stone          215 
The  beaten  rocke  breeds  ;  tell  this  night  is  done 
By  me  a  solemne  honor  to  the  Moone. 
Flie,  like  a  full  saile. 

jEol.  I  am  gone.  [Exit.] 

Cynth.  Darke  Night, 

Strike  a  full  silence,  doe  a  thorow  right 
To  this  great  chorus,  that  our  musicke  may  220 

Touch  high  as  Heaven,  and  make  the  east  breake  day 
At  midnight.  Musicke. 

[FIRST]   SONG. 
[During  'which  Proteus  and  other  Sea-deities  enter.] 

Cinthia,  to  thy  power  and  thee 

We  obey. 
Joy  to  this  great  company!  225 

And  no  day 
Come  to  steale  this  night  away, 

Till  the  rites  of  love  are  ended, 
And  the  lusty  bridegroome  say, 

Welcome,  light,  of  all  befriended !  230 

212  He.    Qi,  D,  B,  I. 

216  tell,  Mason,  D.    Qq,  F,  till. 


22  W^t    wbts  tEragrDi?       [ACT  i. 


Pace  out,  you  watery  powers  below  ; 

Let  your  feete, 
Like  the  gallies  when  they  row, 

Even  beate. 
Let  your  unknowne  measures,  set  235 

To  the  still  windes,  tell  to  all, 
That  gods  are  come,  immortall,  great, 

To  honor  this  great  nuptiall. 

The  Measure. 

SECOND  SONG. 

Hold  backe  thy  houres,  darke  Night,  till  we  have  done  : 

The  day  will  come  too  soone  :  240 

Young  maydes  will  curse  thee,  if  thou  steal'  st  away 

And  leav'st  their  losses  open  to  the  day  : 
Stay,  stay  and  hide 
The  blushes  of  the  bride. 

Stay,  gentle  Night,  and  with  thy  darknesse  cover  245 

The  kisses  of  her  lover  ; 

Stay,  and  confound  her  teares  and  her  shrill  cryings  ; 
Her  weake  denials,  vows,  and  often-dyings  5 

Stay,  and  hide  all  ; 

But  helpe  not,  though  she  call.  250 

Nep.  Great  queene  of  us  and  heaven,  hear  what  I  bring 
To  make  this  houre  a  full  one,  if  not  her  measure. 
Cynth.   Speak,  seas  king. 

242  losses,  Qi.     Qz-F,  blushes. 

252  if  not  her  measure.  Fleay  suggests,  "  Another  measure." 
Qi  has  a  stage-direction  after  the  second  song,  "  Maskers  daunce, 
Neptune  leads  it,"  —  followed  by  bolus's  speech  (1.  266).  It 
omits  the  third  song  and  the  three  speeches  preceding.  See  Notes. 


SCENE  II.]          Qfyt  $^000  &W%tty  23 

Nep.   The  tunes  my  Amphitrite  joyes  to  have 
When  she  will  dance  upon  the  rising  wave,  255 

And  court  me  as  she  sayles.    My  Tritons,  play 
Musicke  to  lay  a  storme.    He  lead  the  way.       Measure. 


[THIRD]    SONG. 

To  bed,  to  bed  !    Come,  Hymen,  lead  the  bride 

And  lay  her  by  her  husbands  side  5 
Bring  in  the  virgins  every  one  260 

That  greeve  to  lie  alone, 

That  they  may  kiss  while  they  may  say  a  maid  ; 
To-morrow  'twill  be  other  kist  and  said. 
Hesperus,  be  long  a-shining 
Whilst  these  lovers  are  a-twining.  265 

JEol.  [within].    Ho,  Neptune! 

Nep.  Eolus ! 

[Re-enter  JE.olui.~\ 

jEol.  The  sea  goes  hie  ; 

Boreas  hath  rais'  d  a  storme  ;  goe  and  apply 
Thy  trident  ;  else,  I  prophesie,  ere  day 
Many  a  tall  ship  will  be  cast  away. 

Descend  with  all  the  gods  and  all  their  power,  270 

To  strike  a  calme.  [Exit^\ 

Cynth.  [We  thanke  you  for  this  houre  ; 

My  favour  to  you  all.]    To  gratulate 
So  great  a  service,  done  at  my  desire, 
Ye  shall  have  many  floods,  fuller  and  higher 
Than  you  have  wisht  for,  [and]  no  ebb  shall  dare  275 

254  The.    Qz,  Thy.       Amphitrite,  Q^.    Qz,  Amphitrites. 

255  she,  Seward.    Qz,  they. 
259  lay,  Heath,  D.      Qz,  lead. 

271-72   JVe  thanke  you    .  .  .  you  all,  so  Qi.     Qz,  A  thanks 
to  every  one,  and.      275  and.    Only  in  Qi. 


24  e  $ai?oe0  tErageDp        [ACT  r. 

To  let  the  day  see  where  your  dwelling  [s]  are. 
Now  back  unto  your  government  in  hast, 
Lest  your  proud  charge  should  swell  above  the  wast 
And  win  upon  the  Hand. 

Nep.  We  obay. 

Neptune  descends  and  the  Sea  Gods.     [Exeunt 
Fawonius  and  other  Winds. ~\ 

Cynth.   Hold  up  thy  head,  dead  Night ;  seest  thou  not 

Day  ?  280 

The  east  begins  to  lighten  ;  I  must  downe 
And  give  my  brother  place. 

Night.  Oh,  I  could  frowne 

To  see  the  Day,  the  Day  that  flings  his  light 
Upon  my  kingdomes  and  contemnes  old  Night  ! 
Let  him  goe  on  and  flame  !    I  hope  to  see  285 

Another  wild-fire  in  his  axel-tree. 
And  all  fall  drencht.    But  I  forget  :  speake  queene. 
The  Day  growes  on  ;  I  must  no  more  be  scene. 

Cynth.   Heave  up  thy  drowsie  head  agen  and  see 
A  greater  light,  a  greater  majestic  Z9° 

Between  our  set  and  us  !    Whip  up  thy  team  : 
The  Day  breakes  here,  and  yon  same  flashing  streame 
Shot  from  the  south.    Say,  which  way  wilt  thou  goe  ? 

Night.   He  vanish  into  mists. 

Cyntb.  I  into  Day. 

Exeunt  [Night  and  Cynthia'] . 
Finis  Maske. 

276  dwellings.    Only  Qz  reads,  dwelling. 

277  government.    Qi,  governments. 

Neptune  .  .  .  Sea  Gods.    After  this  line  Qi  has  stage-direction, 
Exeunt  Maskers  Descend. 

291  set.  Seward's  correction  for  Qq,  F,  sect    ffbip.  Q I,  Lash. 

292  same  flashing.    Qi,  D,  B,  sun-flaring. 

293  Say  .   .   .  goe.    D,  making  a    rhyming  couplet,  Which 
way  wilt  thou  goe,  say.  294  /  into  Day.    Q I  adds,  Adew. 


SCENE  II.]         1&ty  $$%$}&  t^tageD^  25 

King.  Take  lights  there!  —  Ladies,  get  the 

bride  to  bed. —  a95 

We  will  not  see  you  laid ;  good  night,  Amintor ; 
Weele  ease  you  of  that  tedious  ceremonie. 
Were  it  my  case,  I  should  thinke  time  runne 

slow. 

If  thou  beest  noble,  youth,  get  me  a  boy 
That  may  defend  my  kingdomes  from  my  foes.  3°o 
Amin.  All  happinesse  to  you  ! 
King.  Good  night,  Melantius. 

Exeunt. 


ACTUS  SECUNDUS. 

[SCENE  I.   Ante-room  to  Evadne1  s  Bed-chamber, ~\ 
Enter  Evadne,  Aspatia,  Dula,  and  other  Ladyes. 

Dula.  Madam,  shall  we  undresse  you  for  this 

fight  ? 
The  wars  are  nak't  that  you  must  make  to-night. 

Evadne.  You  are  very  merry,  Dula. 

Dul.  I  should  be 

Far  merrier,  madam,  if  it  were  with  me 
As  it  is  with  you. 

[Evad.  Howes  that  ? 

Dul.  That  I  might  goe    5 

To  bed  with  him  wi'th'"  credit  that  you  doe.] 

Evad.  Why,  how  now,  wench  ? 

Dul.  Come,  ladies,  will  you  helpe  ? 

Evad.  I  am  soone  undone. 

Dul.  And  as  soone  done ; 

Good  store  of  clothes  will  trouble  you  at  both. 

Evad.  Art  thou  drunke,  Dula  ? 

Dul.  Why,  heeres  none  but  we.  10 

Evad.  Thou  thinkst  belike  there  is  no  mod- 
esty 
When  we  are  alone. 

5—6  Howes  that  .   .   .  dot. '  Evadne's  speech  and  Dula's  reply  are 
only  in  Qi. 


i.]      tn^e  spaces  tErageai?  27 

Dul.  I,  by  my  troth,  you  hit  my  thoughts 
aright. 

Evad.  You  pricke  me,  lady. 

1st  Lady.  Tis  against  my  will. 

Dul.  Anon  you  must  indure  more  and  lie  still ;  15 
You're  best  to  practise. 

Evad.  Sure,  this  wench  is  mad. 

Dul.  No  faith,  this  is  a  tricke  that  I  have  had 
Since  I  was  foureteene. 

Evad.  Tis  high  time  to  leave  it. 

Dul.  Nay,  now  He  keepe  it  till  the  trick 

leave  me. 

A  dozen  wanton  words  put  in  your  head  ao 

Will  make  you  livelier  in  your  husbands  bed. 

Evad.  Nay,  faith,  then  take  it. 

Dul.  Take  it,  madam  ;  where  ? 

We  all,  I  hope,  will  take  it  that  are  here. 

Evad.  Nay,  then,  He  give  you  ore. 

Dul.  So  will  I  make 

The  ablest  man  in  Rhodes,  or  his  heart  ake.        as 

Evad.  Wilt  take  my  place  to-night  ? 

Dul.  He  hold  your  cards 

Against  any  two  I  know. 

Evad.  What  wilt  thou  doe  ? 

Dul.  Madam,  weele  doo  't,  and  make  'm  leave 
play  too. 

14  at  Lady.    Qa,  Dul.  26  take.    Qi,  lie  in. 

,      17  Against.    Th,  D,  'Gainst. 


28  Qfyt  fte#)e$  flfragefcp      [ACT  n. 

Evad.  Aspatia,  take  her  part. 

Dul.  I  will  refuse  it ; 

She  will  plucke  downe  a  side ;  she  does  not  use  it.  3° 

Evad.  Why,  doe,  [I  prethee.] 

Dul.  You  will  find  the  play 

Quickly,  because  your  head  lies  well  that  way. 

Evad.    I   thanke   thee,   Dula.     Would   thou 

couldst  instill 

Some  of  thy  mirth  into  Aspatia  ! 
Nothing  but  sad  thoughts  in  her  brest  doe  dwell ;  35 
Methinkes  a  meane  betwixt  you  would  doe  well. 

Dul.  She  is  in  love :  hang  me,  if  I  were  so, 
But  I  could  run  my  countrey.    I  love  too 
To  doe  those  things  that  people  in  love  doe. 

Aspatia.  It  were  a  timelesse  smile  should  prove 

my  cheeke.  40 

It  were  a  fitter  houre  for  me  to  laugh, 
When  at  the  altar  the  religious  priest 
Were  pacifying  the  offended  powers 
With  sacrifice,  then  now.    This  should   have 

beene 

My  rite  ;  and  all  your  hands  have  bin  imploy'd  45 
In  giving  me  a  spotlesse  offering 
To  young  Amintors  bed,  as  we  are  now 
For  you.    Pardon,  Evadne  :  would  my  worth 
Were  great  as  yours,  or  that  the  King,  or  he, 

31   I  prethee.    Only  in  Qi.         38  could.    B  queries,  would. 

40  cheeke.    Qzt  cheeke. 

45  rite,  so  D.    Qi,  right ;  Qi  and  other  Qq  and  F,  night. 


SCENE  I.] 

Or  both,  thought   so.    Perhaps  he   found   me 

worthlesse ;  50 

But  till  he  did  so,  in  these  eares  of  mine, 
These  credulous  eares,  he  powred  the  sweetest 

words 

That  art  or  love  could  frame.    If  he  were  false, 
Pardon  it,  Heaven  !  and,  if  I  did  want 
Vertue,  you  safely  may  forgive  that  too ;  55 

For  I  have  lost  none  that  I  had  from  you. 
Evad.  Nay,  leave  this  sad  talke,  madame. 
Asp.  Would  I  could  ! 

Then  I  should  leave  the  cause. 

Evad.  See,  if  you  have  not  spoild  all  Dulas 

mirth  ! 
Asp.  Thou  thinkst   thy   heart    hard  ;   but  if 

thou  beest  caught,  60 

Remember  me  ;  thou  shalt  perceive  a  fire 
Shot  suddenly  into  thee. 

Dul.  Thats  not  so  good  ; 

Let  'em  shoot  anything  but  fire,  I  feare  'em  not. 
Asp.  Well,  wench,  thou  maist  be  taken. 
Evad.  Ladies,  good-night ;  He  doe  the  rest 

myselfe.  65 

Dul.  Nay,  let  your  lord  doe  some. 
Asp.    [singing], 

Lay  a  garland  on  my  hearse 
Of  the  dismall  yew  — 

56  lost.    Q5-F,  left.  58  I  should.   Q3-F,  should  I. 

63   I  feare.    Qi,  B,  and  I  fear. 
67-90  Lay  .  .  .  Madame.    Qi  omits. 


30  {Etje  spaces  tErageDp      [ACT  n. 

Evad.  Thats  one  of  your  sad  songs,  madame. 
Asp.  Beleeve  me,  tis  a  very  prety  one.  70 

Evad.  How  is  it,  madame  ? 


SONG. 

Lay  a  garland  on  my  hearse 

Of  the  dismall  yew  ; 
Maidens,  willow-branches  beare, 

Say  I  died  true.  75 

My  love  was  false,  but  I  was  firme 

From  my  houre  of  birth  j 
Upon  my  buried  body  lie 

Lightly,  gentle  earth  ! 

Evad.  Fie  ont,  madame,  the   words  are  so 

strange,  they  80 

Are  able  to  make  one  dreame  of  hobgoblines.  — 
41  1  could  never  have  the  power  "  —  sing  that, 

Dula. 
Dul.    \singing\  . 

I  could  never  have  the  power 

To  love  one  above  an  houre, 

But  my  heart  would  prompt  mine  eie  85 

On  some  other  man  to  flie. 

Venus,  fix  mine  eies  fast, 

Or,  if  not,  give  me  all  that  I  shall  see  at  last  ! 

78/«,  Th.   Qq.F,  lay. 

79  ff*^  24-F-    Q*>  Q3»  g^tly. 

80-82  Fie  .   .   .  Dula.    gq,  F,  B  print  as  prose. 


SCENE  I.] 

Evad.  So,  leave  me  now. 

Dul.  Nay,  we  must  see  you  laid. 

Asp.  Madame,  good  night.   May  all  the  mar- 

iage  joyes  90 

That  longing  maids  imagine  in  their  beds 
Prove  so  unto  you !    May  no  discontent 
Grow   twixt  your  love  and  you !  but,  if  there 

doe, 

Enquire  of  me,  and  I  will  guide  your  mone  j 
Teach  you  an  artificiall  way  to  grieve,  95 

To  keepe  your  sorrow  waking.    Love  your  lord 
No  worse  than  I ;  but,  if  you  love  so  well, 
Alas,  you  may  displease  him ;  so  did  I. 
This  is  the  last  time  you  shall  looke  on  me. — 
Ladies,  farewell.    As  soone  as  I  am  dead,  100 

Come  all  and  watch  one  night  about  my  hearse ; 
Bring  each  a  mournefull  story  and  a  teare, 
To  offer  at  it  when  I  goe  to  earth ; 
With  flattering  ivy  claspe  my  coffin  round ; 
Write  on  my  brow  my  fortune;  let  my  beere     105 
Be  borne  by  virgins,  that  shall  sing  by  course 
The  truth  of  maides  and  perjuries  of  men. 

Evad.  Alas,  I  pittie  thee.  Exit  Evadne. 

Omnes.  Madame,  good  night. 

1st  Lady.  Come,  weele  let  in  the  bridegroome. 

Dul.  Where's  my  lord  ? 

1st  Lady.   Heere,  take  this  light. 

95  Teach,  Q3.     Qi,  Qi,  and  teach. 


32  ^e  spaces  trageo^       [ACT  n. 

Enter  Amintor. 

Dul.  You'le  finde  her  in  the  darke.  no 

ist  Lady.  Your  ladye's  scarce  a-bed  yet ;  you 

must  helpe  her. 

Asp.   Goe,  and  be  happy  in  your  ladies  love. 
May  all  the  wrongs  that  you  have  done  to  me 
Be  utterly  forgotten  in  my  death  ! 
He  trouble  you  no  more,  yet  I  will  take  115 

A  parting  kisse,  and  will  not  be  denied. 

\_Kisses  Amintor  J\ 

You'le  come,  my  lord,  and  see  the  virgins  weepe 
When  I  am  laid  in  earth,  though  you  yourselfe 
Can  know  no  pitty.    Thus  I  winde  myselfe 
Into  this  willow-garland,  and  am  prouder  "o 

That  I  was  once  your  love,  though  now  refus'd, 
Then  to  have  had  another  true  to  me. 
So  with  [my]  praiers  I  leave  you,  and  must  trie 
Some  yet  unpractis'd  way  to  grieve  and  die. 

Exit  Aspatia. 

Dul.  Come,  ladies,  will  you  go  ? 
Omnes.  Good  night,  my  lord.  "5 

Amintor.  Much  happinesse  unto  you  all ! 

Exeunt  \_Dula  and~\  Ladies. 
I  did  that  lady  wrong.    Methinkes  I  feele 
A  griefe  shoot  suddenly  through  all  my  veines; 
Mine  eyes  raine  ;  this  is  strange  at  such  a  time. 
It  was  the  King  first  mov'd  me  too't ;  but  he      13° 

no   You  It.    Qi,  D,  B,  Heele,      123  my,  £3. 

iz8  Ay  Qi.    Qa,  Her.  129  raine,  Qi.   Qa,  runne. 


i.]      Ws$  ^a^oejf  {Erage&p  33 

Has  not  my  will  in  keeping.  —  Why  doe  I 
Perplex  myselfe  thus  ?    Something  whispers  me, 
Goe  not  to  bed.    My  guilt  is  not  so  great 
As  mine  owne  conscience  (too  sensible) 
Would  make  me  thinke ;  I  onely  brake  a  pro- 
mise, »3S 
And  twas  the  King  that  forst  me.     Timorous 

flesh, 
Why  shak'st  thou  so  ?     Away,  my  idle  feares  ! 

Enter  Evadne. 

Yonder  she  is,  the  luster  of  whose  eie 
Can  blot  away  the  sad  remembrance 
Of  all  these  things.  —  Oh,  my  Evadne,  spare     14° 
That  tender  body ;  let  it  not  take  cold ! 
The  vapors  of  the  night  will  not  fall  here. 
To  bed,  my  love ;   Hymen  will  punish  us 
For  being  slacke  performers  of  his  rites. 
Camst  thou  to  call  me  ? 

Evad.  No. 

Amin.  Come,  come,  my  love,  145 

And  let  us  lose  ourselves  to  one  another. 
Why  art  thou  up  so  long  ? 

Evad.  I  am  not  well. 

Amin.  To  bed  then ;  let   me  winde  thee  in 

these  armes 
Till  I  have  banisht  sicknesse. 

136  that  forst.    Qi,  inforst ;  D,  enforc'd. 
141  -will.    £>i,  D,  B,  shall. 


34  3flhe  spap&e*  tErageap       [ACT  n. 

Evad.  Good  my  lord, 

I  cannot  sleepe. 

Amin.  Evadne,  weele  watch  ;  150 

I  meane  no  sleeping. 

Evad.  lie  not  goe  to  bed. 

Amin.  I  prethee,  do. 

Evad.  I  will  not  for  the  world. 

Amin.  Why,  my  deere  love  ? 

Evad.  Why  ?   I  have  sworne  I  will  not. 

Amin.  Sworne  ! 

Evad.  I. 

Amin.  How  ?   sworne,  Evadne  ! 

Evad.  Yes,    sworne,    Amintor;     and    will 

sweare  again,  155 

If  you  will  wish  to  heare  me. 

Amin.  To  whom  have  you  sworne  this  ? 

Evad.  If  I  should  name  him,  the  matter  were 
not  great. 

Amin.  Come,  this  is  but  the  coynesse  of  a 
bride. 

Evad.  The  coynesse  of  a  bride  ! 

Amin.  How  pretilyi6o 

.That  frowne  becomes  thee  ! 

Evad.  Doe  you  like  it  so  ? 

Amin.  Thou  canst  not  dresse  thy  face  in  such 

a looke 
But  I  shall  like  it. 

Evad.  What  looke  likes  you  best  ? 

164  likes.    Qi,  B,  will  like. 


SCENE  I.]  f&ty  $$*&&        n%tty  35 

Amin.  Why  doe  you  aske  ? 

Evad.  That  I  may  shew  you  one  lesse  pleas- 
ing to  you.  165 

Amin.  Howes  that? 

Evad.  That  I  may  show  you  one  lesse  pleas- 
ing to  you. 

Amin.  I    prethee,    put    thy   jests    in    milder 

lookes ; 
It  shewes  as  thou  wert  angry. 

Evad.  So  perhaps 

I  am  indeede. 

Amin.  Why,  who  has  done  thee  wrong  ?  170 

Name  me  the  man,  and  by  thyselfe  I  sweare, 
Thy  yet  unconquered  self,  I  will  revenge  thee ! 

Evad.  Now  I  shall  trie  thy  truth.    If  thou 

doest  love  me, 

Thou  weighest  not  anything  compar'd  with  me  : 
Life,  honour,  joyes  eternall,  all  delights  175 

This  world  can  yeeld,  or  hopefull  people  faine, 
Or  in  the  life  to  come,  are  light  as  aire 
To  a  true  lover  when  his  lady  frownes, 
And  bids  him, "  Doe  this."    Wilt  thou  kill  this 

man  ? 

Sweare,  my  Amintor,  and  I'le  kisse  the  sin         180 
Off  from  thy  lips. 

Amin.  I  wonnot  sweare,  sweet  love, 

Till  I  do  know  the  cause. 

Evad.  I  wood  thou  wouldst. 


36  Wqt  Spa^Oe*  tEragefci?       [ACT  n. 


Why,  it  is  thou  that  wrongst  me  ;  I  hate  thee  ; 
Thou  should'st  have  kild  thyselfe. 

Amin.  If  I  should  know  that,  I  should  quickly 

kill  185 

The  man  you  hated. 

Evad.  Know  it,  then,  and  doo't. 

Amin.  Oh,  no  !  what  look  so  ere  thou  shalt 

put  on 

To  trie  my  faith,  I  shall  not  think  thee  false  ; 
I  cannot  finde  one  blemish  in  thy  face 
Where  falsehood  should  abide.    Leave,  and  to 

bed.  190 

If  you  have  sworne  to  any  of  the  virgins 
That  were  your  old  companions,  to  preserve 
Your  maidenhead  a  night,  it  may  be  done 
Without  this  meanes. 

Evad.  A  maidenhead,  Amintor, 

At  my  yeares  ! 

Amin.  Sure  she  raves;  this  cannot  be  195 

Thy  natural  temper.  —  Shall  I  call  thy  maides  ? 
Either  thy  healthfull  sleepe  hath  left  thee  long, 
Or  else  some  feaver  rages  in  thy  blood. 

Evad.  Neither,  Amintor  :  thinke  you  I  am 

mad 
Because  I  speake  the  truth  ? 

Amin.  [Is  this  the  truth  ?]  aoo 

Will  you  not  lie  with  me  to-night  ? 

196  Thy.   Qi,  B,  Her.        200  Is  this  the  truth?   Only  in  Qi. 


SCENE  i.]      ^t  ty*$x8  {EftageDp  37 

Evad.  To-night ! 

You  talke  as  if  [you  thought]  I  would  hereafter. 

Amin.  Hereafter !  yes,  I  doe. 

Evad.  You  are  deceiv'd. 

Put  off  amazement  &  with  patience  marke 
What  I  shall  utter,  for  the  oracle  405 

Knowes  nothing  truer.    Tis  not  for  a  night 
Or  two  that  I  forbeare  thy  bed,  but  ever. 

Amin.  I  dreame.    Awake,  Amintor ! 

Evad.  You  heare  right : 

I  sooner  will  find  out  the  beds  of  snakes, 
And  with  my  youthful  bloud  warme  their  cold 

flesh,  210 

Letting  them  curie  themselves  about  my  limbes, 
Then  sleepe  one  night  with  thee.    This  is  not 

faind, 
Nor  sounds  it  like  the  coynesse  of  a  bride. 

Amin.  Is  flesh  so  earthly  to  endure  all  this  ? 
Are  these  the  joys  of  mariage  ?    Hymen,  keepe  215 
This  story  (that  will  make  succeeding  youth 
Neglect  thy  ceremonies)  from  all  eares; 
Let  it  not  rise  up,  for  thy  shame  and  mine, 
To  after  ages.    We  will  scorne  thy  laws, 
If  thou  no  better  blesse  them.   Touch  the  heart  220 
Of  her  that  thou  hast  sent  me,  or  the  world 
Shall  know ;  there's  not  an  altar  that  will  smoke 

202  you  thought.    Only  in  Qi.      207  ever.    Q4-F,  forever. 

222  Shall  know  ;  there's  not  an  altar.  Qi,  Shall  know  this, 
not  an  altar  then  will  smoake  —  adopted  by  B.  Qz  has  no  punc- 
tuation after  know. 


38  Wqt  $a£tesf  {ErageOp       [ACT  n. 

In  praise  of  thee ;  we  will  adopt  us  sons  ; 

Then  vertue  shall  inherit,  and  not  blood. 

If  we  doe  lust,  wee'le  take  the  next  we  meet,     425 

Serving  ourselves  as  other  creatures  doe ; 

And  never  take  note  of  the  female  more, 

Nor  of  her  issue.  —  I  doe  rage  in  vaine ; 

She  can  but  jest.  —  Oh,  pardon  me,  my  love  ! 

So  deare  the  thoughts  are  that  I  hold  of  thee,     *3° 

That  I  must  breake  forth.    Satisfie  my  feare ; 

It  is  a  paine,  beyond  the  hand  of  death, 

To  be  in  doubt:  confirme  it  with  an  oath, 

If  this  be  true. 

Evad.  Doe  you  invent  the  forme ; 

Let  there  be  in  it  all  the  binding  words  *35 

Divels  and  conjurers  can  put  together, 
And  I  will  take  it.    I  have  sworne  before, 
And  here  by  all  things  holy  doe  againe, 
Never  to  be  acquainted  with  thy  bed. 
Is  your  doubt  over  now  ?  »4° 

Amin.    I    know    too    much  :    would    I    had 

doubted  still ! 

Was  ever  such  a  mariage-night  as  this  ! 
You  powers  above,  if  you  did  ever  meane 
Man   should  be  us'd  thus,  you  have  thought  a 

way 

How  he  may  beare  himselfe  and  save  his  honour :  245 
Instruct  me  in  it ;  for  to  my  dull  eyes 
There  is  no  meane,  no  moderate  course  to  runne ; 


i.]         ty  Spaces    rageDE  39 

I  must  live  scorn'd,  or  be  z  murderer : 
Is  there  a,  third  ?    Why  is  this  night  so  calme  ? 
Why  does  not  Heaven  speake  in  thunder  to  us  250 
And  drowne  her  voice? 

Evad.  This  rage  will  doe  no  good. 

Amin.  Evadne,  heare  me.    Thou  has  tane  an 

oath, 

But  such  a  rash  one,  that  to  keepe  it  were 
Worse  then  to  sweare  it :  call  it  backe  to  thee ; 
Such  vowes  as  those  never  ascend  the  Heaven ;  255 
A  teare  or  two  will  wash  it  quite  away. 
Have  mercy  on  my  youth,  my  hopefull  youth, 
If  thou  be  pittifull !  for,  without  boast, 
This  land  was  proud  of  me  :  what  lady  was  there, 
That  men  cald  faire  and  vertuous  in  this  isle,     260 
That  would  have  shund  my  love  ?    It  is  in  thee 
To  make  me  hold  this  worth.  Oh,  we  vaine  men, 
That  trust  [out]  all  our  reputation 
To  rest  upon  the  weake  and  yeelding  hand 
Of  feeble  woman  !    But  thou  art  not  stone ;        265 
Thy  flesh  is  soft,  and  in  thine  eyes  doth  dwell 
The  spirit  of  love ;  thy  heart  cannot  be  hard. 
Come,  lead  me  from  the  bottome  of  despaire 
To  all  the  joyes  thou  hast ;  I  know  thou  wilt ; 
And  make  me  carefull  lest  the  sudden  change     270 
Orecome  my  spirits. 

255  those.    Qi,  Th,  D,  B,  that.     263  out,  Q$. 
266  doth,  23.    Qz,  doe. 


40  i&ty  $)ai?D«f  tErage&2       [ACT  n. 

Evad.  When  I  call  backe  this  oath, 

The  paines  of  hell  inviron  me  ! 

Amin.  I  sleepe,  and  am  too  temperate.  Come 

to  bed  ! 

Or, by  those  haires,  which,  if  thou  ha[d]  st  a  soule 
Like  to  thy  locks,  were  threads  for  kings  to 

weare  175 

About  their  armes  — 

Evad.  Why,  so  perhaps  they  are. 

Amin.  He  dragge  thee  to  my  bed  and  make 

thy  tongue 

Undoe  this  wicked  oath,  or  on  thy  flesh 
He  print  a  thousand  wounds  to  let  out  life ! 
Evad.  I  feare  thee  not ;  do  what  thou  dar'st 

to  me !  280 

Every  ill-sounding  word  or  threatning  look 
Thou  shewest  to  me  will  be  reveng'd  at  full. 
Amin.  It  will  not  sure,  Evadne  ? 
Evad.  Do  not  you  hazard  that. 
Amin.  Ha  ye  your  champions  ? 

Evad.  Alas,    Amintor,    thinkst    thou  I  for- 

beare  285 

To  sleepe  with  thee,  because  I  have  put  on 
A    maidens     strictnesse  ?     Looke  upon    these 

cheekes, 

And  thou  shalt  finde  the  hot  and  rising  blood 
Unapt  for  such  a  vow.    No ;  in  this  heart 

274  badst,  Th. 


SCENE  I.]  {[1^0  $ai?D00  {Erag0U]?  4! 

There  dwels  as  much  desire  and  as  much  will    *9o 
To  put  that  wisht  act  in  practice  as  ever  yet 
Was  knowne  to  woman  j  and  they  have  been 

showne 

Both.    But  it  was  the  folly  of  thy  youth 
To  think  this  beauty,  to  what  land  soere 
It  shall  be  cald,  shall  stoope  to  any  second.         »9S 
I  doe  enjoy  the  best,  and  in  that  height 
Have  sworne  to  stand  or  die :  you  guesse  the 
man. 

Amin.  No ;  let  me  know  the  man  that  wrongs 

me  so, 

That  I  may  cut  his  body  into  motes, 
And  scatter  it  before  the  northren  winde.  300 

Evad.  You  dare  not  strike  him. 

Amin.  Doe  not  wrong  me  so : 

Yes,  if  his  body  were  a  poysonous  plant 
That  it  were  death  to  touch,  I  have  a  soule 
Will  throw  me  on  him. 

Evad.  Why  tis  the  King. 

Amin.  The  King! 

Evad.  What  will  you  doe  now  ? 

Amin.  Tis  not  the  King  !  3°S 

Evad.  What    did  he  make    this  match  for, 
dull  Amintor  ? 

191   vuisbt.    Qi,  B,  wished.        ever.    D,  e'er. 
294  land.    B  conjectures  hand,  observing  that  Evadne    is    em- 
ploying the  language  of  falconry. 


42  Wt)t  spaces  fErageai?       [ACT  n. 


Amin.  Oh,  thou    hast    nam'd   a    word    that 

wipes  away 

All  thoughts  revengefull  !    In  that  sacred  name, 
"  The  King,"  there  lies  a  terror.    What  fraile 

man 

Dares  lift  his  hand  against  it  ?    Let  the  gods       310 
Speake  to  him  when  they  please  :  till  when,  let  us 
Suffer  and  waite. 

Evad.  Why  should  you  fill  yourselfe  so  full 

of  heate 
And  haste  so  to  my  bed  ?    I  am  no  virgin. 

Amin.  What  divell  put  it  in  thy  fancy,  then,3IS 
To  mary  me  ? 

Evad.  Alas,  I  must  have  one 

To  father  children  and  to  beare  the  name 
Of  husband  to  me,  that  my  sinne  may  be 
More  honorable  ! 

Amin.  What  a  strange  thing  am  I  ! 

Evad.  A  miserable  one,  one  that  myselfe        320 
Am  sory  for. 

Amin.  Why,  shew  it  then  in  this  : 

If  thou  hast  pittie,  though  thy  love  be  none, 
Kill  me  ;  and  all  true  lovers,  that  shall  live 
In  after  ages  crost  in  their  desires, 
Shall  blesse  thy  memory  and  call  thee  good,        325 
Because  such  mercy  in  thy  heart  was  found, 
To  rid  a  lingring  wretch. 

308  name,    Qi,  Th,  D,  B,  word.  319  a.    Qi,  B,  omit. 


SCENE  I.]  <&$*  tytylKS  {EPWgeDE  43 

Evad.  I  must  have  one 

To  fill  thy  roome  again,  if  thou  wert  dead ; 
Else,  by  this  night,  I  would !   I  pitty  thee. 

Amin.  These  strange  and  sudden  injuries  have 

falne  33° 

So  thicke  upon  me,  that  I  lose  all  sense 
Of  what  they  are.    Methinkes  I  am  not  wrong'd  j 
Nor  is  it  ought,  if  from  the  censuring  world 
I  can  but  hide  it.  —  Reputation, 
Thou  art  a  word,  no  more  !  —  But  thou  hast 

showne  335 

An  impudence  so  high  that  to  the  world 
I  feare  thou  wilt  betray  or  shame  thyselfe. 

Evad.  To  cover  shame,  I  tooke  thee ;   never 

feare 
That  I  would  blaze  myselfe. 

Amin.  Nor  let  the  King 

Know  I  conceive  he  wrongs  me ;  then   mine 

honor  340 

Will  thrust  me  into  action ;  that  my  flesh 
Could  beare  with  patience.   And  it  is  some  ease 
To  me  in  these  extremes,  that  I  know  this 
Before  I  toucht  thee ;  else,  had  all  the  sinnes 
Of  mankinde  stood  betwixt  me  and  the  King,    345 
I  had  gone  through  'em  to  his  heart  and  thine. 
I  have  lost  one  desire :  tis  not  his  crowne 

341   that.    Edd.  1778,  W,  tho'.        343  know.    £4,  knew. 
347  /«*.    fii,  left. 


44  r  spapur  0  {Efrage&p       [ACT  n. 

Shall  buy  me  to  thy  bed,  now  I  resolve 

He  has  dishonour' d  thee.    Give  me  thy  hand; 

Be  carefull  of  thy  credit,  and  sin  close ;  350 

Tis  all  I  wish.    Upon  thy  chamber-floure 

He  rest  to-night  that  morning  visiters 

May  thinke  we  did  as  married  people  use : 

And  prethee,  smile  upon  me  when  they  come, 

And  seeme  to  toy  as  if  thou  hadst  beene  pleased  355 

With  what  we  did. 

Evad.  Feare  not ;  I  will  doe  this. 

Amin.  Come,  let  us   practise ;   and,  as  wan- 
tonly 

As  ever  loving  bride  and  bridegroome  met, 
Lets  laugh  and  enter  here. 

Evad.  I  am  content. 

Amin.  Downe  all  the  swellings  of  my  troubled 

heart !  36° 

When  we  walke  thus  intwin'd,  let  all  eies  see 
If  ever  lovers  better  did  agree.  Exeunt. 

[SCENE  II.  An  Apartment  in  the  House  of  CalianaxJ\ 
Enter  Aspatia,  Antipbila,  and  Olimpias. 

Aspatia.  Away,  you  are  not  sad  j  force  it  no 

further. 

Good  gods,  how  well  you  looke !    Such  a  full 
colour 

358  loving.    Qi,  B,  longing.  Exeunt.    Qa,  Exit. 


ii.j     tB^r  spaces  ^rageu^  45 

Yo  [u]  ng  bashfull  brides  put  on  ;  sure,  you  are 
new  maried ! 

Antiphila.  Yes,  madame,  to  your  griefe. 

Asp.  Alas,  poor  wenches  ! 

Goe  learn  to  love  first ;    learne  to  lose  your- 
selves ; 

Learne  to  be  flattered,  and  beleeve  and  blesse 
The  double  tongue  that  did  it ;  make  a  faith 
Out  of  the  miracles  of  ancient  lovers, 
Such  as  speake  truth  and  died  in't ;  and,  like  me, 
Beleeve  all  faithful,  and  be  miserable. 
Did  you  nere  love  yet,  wenches  ?  Speake,  Olim- 

pias : 
Thou  hast  an  easie  temper,  fit  for  stamp. 

Olimpias.   Never. 

Asp.  Nor  you,  Antiphila  ? 

Ant.  Nor  I. 

Asp.  Then,  my   good    girls,  be    more    than 

women,  wise ; 

At  least  bee  more  than  I  was;  and  be  sure 
You  credit  anything  the  light  gives  life  to, 
Before  a  man.  Rather  beleeve  the  sea 

9  tpeake.    Th,  D,  spake.        died.    Qa,  di'd. 
II   Did  .  .  .  Olimpias.    In  all  early  editions  except  Qi,  this  line 
follows  1.  8  ;  the  transposition  was  made  by  Theobald. 

Qi,  The  double  tongue  that  did  it, 

Did  you  ere  love  yet  wenches,  speake  Olimpas, 
Thou  hast  a  metled  temper,  fit  for  stamp. 

15-27  and  be  sure  .  .  .  beast  man.    Qi  omits.    Qz-F,  as  prose. 
16  life,  Qi.    Q3-F,  light. 


46  Wqt  spaces  tEfrageai?       [ACT  n. 


Weepes  for  the  ruin'd  marchant,  when  he  rores  ; 
Rather,  the  wind  courts  but  the  pregnant  sailes, 
When  the  strong  cordage  crackes  ;  rather,  the 

sunne 

Comes  but  to  kisse  the  fruit  in  wealthy  autumne, 
When  all  falles  blasted.  If  you  needs  must  love, 
(Forc'd  by  ill  fate)  take  to  your  maiden  bosomes 
Two  dead-cold  aspicks,  and  of  them  make 

lovers  : 

They  cannot  flatter  nor  forsweare;  one  kisse 
Makes  a  long  peace  for  all.    But  man  — 
Oh,  that  beast  man  !    Come,  lets  be  sad,  my 

girles  : 

That  downe-cast  of  thine  eie,  Olimpias, 
Shewes  a  fine  sorrow.  —  Marke,  Antiphila  j 
Just  such  another  was  the  nymph  ^ifEnones, 
When  Paris  brought  home  Hellen.  —  Now,  a 

teare  ; 

And  then  thou  art  a  piece  expressing  fully 
The  Carthage  queene,  when  from  a  cold  sea- 

rocke, 

Full  with  her  sorrow,  she  tied  fast  her  eyes 
To  the   faire  Trojan  ships;    and  having  lost 

them, 
Just  as  thine  does,  downe  stole  a  teare.  —  An- 

tiphila, 

24  dead-cold.    Qa,  dead  cold  ;  corrected  by  Th. 

30  jEnones.  F,  CEnone. 

36  thine  does.    £3,  thine  eyes  does;  £>4-F,  D,  thine  eyes  do. 


SCENE  II.]         Qfyt  tytyUtt        Wi%tty  47 

What  would  this  wench  doe,  if  she  were  Aspa- 

tia? 

Here  she  would  stand  till  some  more  pittying  god 
Turnd    her    to    marble !  —  Tis    enough,    my 

wench  !  — 

Shew  me  the  peece  of  needleworke  you  wrought.  40 
Ant.  Of  Ariadne,  madam  ? 
Asp.  Yes,  that  peece.  — 

This    should   be   Theseus ;    h'as    a    cousening 

face.  — 
You  meant  him  for  a  man  ? 

Ant.  He  was  so,  madame. 

Asp.  Why,  then,  tis  well  enough.  —  Never 

looke  backe ; 
You    have  a    full    winde    and    a    false    heart, 

Theseus.  —  45 

Does  not  the  story  say,  his  keele  was  split, 
Or  his  masts  spent,  or  some  kinde  rocke  or  other 
Met  with  his  vessell  ? 

Ant.  Not  as  I  remember. 

Asp.  It  should  ha  beene  so.    Could  the  gods 

know  this, 

And  not,  of  all  their  number,  raise  a  storme  ?       50 
But  they  are  all  as  evil.    This  false  smile 
Was  well   exprest ;  just  such   another   caught 
me.  — 

51-54  But  they  .  .  .  quicksand.    The  division  of  lines  follows  D. 
In  Q2  lines  end  with  exprett,  Antlfhila,  quicksand. 
51   nil,  D.    Qq,  F,  ill 


48  W$t  $&a$)e0  3Prage&£       [ACT  n. 


You  shall  not  goe  so.  — 

Antiphila,  in  this  place  worke  a  quicksand, 

And  over  it  a  shallow  smiling  water, 

And  his  ship  ploughing  it  ;  and  then  a  Feare  : 

Doe  that  Feare  to  the  life,  wench. 

Ant.  Twill  wrong  the  storie 

Asp.  Twill    make    the    story,  wrong'd    by 

wanton  poets, 
Live  long  and  be  beleev'd.    But  wheres  the  lady  ? 

Ant.  There,  madame. 

Asp.  Fie,  you  have  mist  it  here,  Antiphila  j 
You  are  much  mistaken,  wench  : 
These  colours  are  not  dull  and  pale  enough 
To  shew  a  soule  so  full  of  misery 
As  this  sad  ladies  was.    Doe  it  by  me, 
Doe  it  againe  by  me,  the  lost  Aspatia  ; 
And  you  shall  finde  all  true  but  the  wilde  iland. 
I  stand  upon  the  sea-breach  now  ;  and  thinke 
Mine  armes  thus,  and  mine  haire  blowne  with 

the  wind, 

Wilde  as  that  desart  ;  and  let  all  about  me 
Tell  that  I  am  forsaken.    Doe  my  face 
(If  thou  hadst  ever  feeling  of  a  sorrow) 
Thus,  thus,  Antiphila  :  strive  to  make  me  looke 

57  to  the  life.    Qi,  bravely. 

68  and  thinke,  Qi  and  D  omit.  Qi,  D,  B,  Suppose  I  stand 
upon  the  sea-breach  now. 

71  Tell  that  /  am  forsaken.  Qi  substitutes,  Be  teares  of  my 
story  ;  Theobald,  Be  teachers,  etc. 


ii.]     qfyt  sparest  {Erage&i?  49 

Like  Sorrowes  monument ;  and  the  trees  about 

me, 

Let  them  be  dry  and  leaveless  ;  let  the  rocks       75 
Groane  with  continual!  surges ;  and  behind  me, 
Make  all  a  desolation.    Looke,  looke,  wenches, 
A  miserable  life  of  this  poore  picture  ! 
Olim.  Deere  madam  ! 

Asp.  I  have  done.  Sit  downe,  and  let  us 

Upon  that  point  fixe  all  our  eyes,  that  point 

there.  go 

Make  a  dull  silence,  till  you  feel  a  sudden  sad- 

nesse 
Give  us  new  soules. 

Enter  Catianax. 
Calianax.  The  King  may  doe  this,  and  he 

may  not  doe  it : 
My  child  is  wrongd,  disgrac'd.  —  Well,  how 

now,  huswives  ? 

What,  at  your  ease !  is  this  a  time  to  sit  still  ?      85 
Up,  you  young  lazie  whores,  up,  or  He  swenge 

you ! 

Olim.  Nay,  good  my  lord  — 
Cal.  You'l  lie  downe  shortly.  Get  you  in,  and 

worke ! 

What,  are  you   growne    so    reasty  you  want 
heates  ? 

77  Looke,  looke.  Qi,  D,  B,  See,  see. 
8 1  dull,  Q3  et  al.  ;  Qi,  Qz,  dumbe. 
89  reatty.  Qi,  rusty.  Q$,  resty. 


50  e  spai?&e0  {rage&t>       [ACT  n. 

We  shall  have  some  of  the  court-boyes  doe  that 

office.  90 

Ant.  My  lord,  we  doe  no  more  than  we  are 

charg'd : 

It  is  the  ladies  pleasure  we  be  thus 
In  griefe,  shee  is  forsaken. 

CaL  Theres  a  rogue  too, 

A  young  dissembling   slave !  —  Well,  get  you 

in.  — 

He  have  a  bout  with  that  boy.    Tis  hie  time         95 
Now  to  be  valiant :   I  confesse  my  youth 
Was  never  prone  that  way.    What,  made  an 

asse ! 

A  court-stale  !    Well,  I  will  be  valiant, 
And  beate  some  dozen  of  these  whelps  ;  I  will ! 
And  theres  another  of 'em,  a  trim  cheating  soul- 

dier;  J°o 

He  maule  that  rascall ;  has  out-brav'd  me  twice ; 
But  now,  I  thanke  the  gods,  I  am  valiant. — 
Goe,  get  you  in.  —  lie  take  a  course  with  all. 

Exeunt  Qm\nes\. 

90  doe  that  office.    Qi,  D,  B,  heat  you  shortly. 

93  In  griefe,  shee  is  forsaken.  Dyce  omits  comma  ;  Mason,  B, 
omit  comma  and  put  semi-colon  after  thus.  Qi—  £>5  print  in 
griefe  in  the  preceding  line. 


ACTUS  TERTIUS. 

[SCENE   I.  Ante-room  to  Evadni  s  Bed-chamber. ~\ 
Enter  Clean,  Strata,  and  Diphilus. 

Clean.  Your  sister  is  not  up  yet. 

Dipbilus.  Oh,  brides  must  take  their  morn- 
ings rest;  the  night  is  troublesome. 

Strata.  But  not  tedious. 

Diph.  What  ods,  hee  has  not  my  sisters  maid-    5 
enhead  to-night  ? 

Stra.  None;  its  ods  against  any  bridegrome 
living,  he  nere  gets  it  while  he  lives. 

Dipb.  Y'are  merry  with   my   sister;    you'le 
please  to  allow  me  the  same  freedome  with  your  10 
mother. 

Stra.  Shees  at  your  service. 

Dipb.  Then  shees  merry  enough  of  herselfe  ; 
shee  needs  no  tickling.    Knocke  at  the  dore. 

Stra.  We  shall  interrupt  them.  15 

Diph.  No  matter ;  they  have  the  yeare  before 
them.  [ Strata  knocks. ~\ 

Good  morrow,  sister.    Spare  yourselfe  to-day  ; 
The  night  will  come  againe. 
Enter  Amintor 

Amintor.  Whose  there  ?  my  brother  !    I'm  no 

readier  yet.  ao 

Your  sister  is  but  now  up. 

7  None,  Qi.    Qa,  No. 


52 

Diph.  You  looke  as  you  had  lost  your  eyes 

to-night  : 
I  thinke  you  ha  not  slept. 

Amin.  I  faith  I  have  not. 

Diph.  You  have  done  better,  then. 

Amin.  We  ventured  for  a  boy ;  when  he  is 

twelve, 

A  shall  command  against  the  foes  of  Rhodes. 
Shall  we  be  merry  ? 

Stra.  You  cannot ;  you  want  sleepe. 

Amin.  Tis  true.  —  (Aside.}  But  she, 

As  if  she  had  drunke  Lethe,  or  had  made 
Even  with  Heaven,  did  fetch  so  still  a  sleepe, 
So  sweet  and  sound  — 

Diph.  Whats  that  ? 

Amin.  Your  sister  frets 

This  morning,  and  does  turn  her  eyes  upon  me, 
As  people  on  their  headsman.    She  does  chafe 
And   kisse,    and    chafe    againe,    and   clap    my 

cheekes  ; 
Shees  in  another  world. 

Diph.  Then  I  had  lost :  I  was  about  to  lay 
You  had  not  got  her  maidenhead  to-night. 

Amin.  \asidi\ .  Ha  !  he  does  not  mocke  me  ?  — 

Y'ad  lost  indeed ; 
I  doe  not  use  to  bungle. 

Clean.  You  doe  deserve  her. 

38  be  does  not  mocke.    Qi,  D,  B,  does  he  not  mocke. 


S«N*  i.]      ^e  spaces  {Efrageap  53 

Amin.  (aside).  I  laid  my  lips  to  hers,  and  that 

wild  breath,  4° 

That  was  so  rude  and  rough  to  me  last  night, 
Was  sweet  as  Aprill.    He  be  guilty  too, 
If  these  be  the  effects. 

Enter  Melantius. 

Melantius.  Good  day,  Amintor ;  for  to  me  the 

name 

Of  brother  is  too  distant ;  we  are  friends,  45 

And  that  is  nearer. 

Amin.  Deare  Melantius ! 

Let  me  behold  thee.  —  Is  it  possible  ? 

Mel.  What  sudden  gaze  is  this  ? 

Amin.  Tis  wondrous  strange  ! 

Mel.  Why  does  thine  eye  desire  so  strict  a  view 
Of  that  it  knowes  so  well  ?  Theres  nothing  heere  50 
That  is  not  thine. 

Amin.  I  wonder  much,  Melantius, 

To  see  those  noble  lookes,  that  made  me  thinke 
How  vertuous  thou  art ;  and,  on  the  sudden, 
Tis  strange  to  me  thou  shouldst  have  worth  and 

honour; 

Or  not  be  base,  and  false,  and  trecherous,  55 

And  every  ill.    But  — 

Mel.  Stay,  stay,  my  friend  ; 

I  feare  this  sound  will  not  become  our  loves  : 
No  more ;  embrace  me  ! 

58  No  more  ;  embrace  me.    Qq  and  D  read,  No  more  embrace 
me.    F  has  comma  after  more. 


54  tEtye  tywfits  tErageDp      [ACT  in. 

Amin.  Oh,  mistake  me  not ! 

I  know  thee  to  be  full  of  all  those  deeds 
That  we  fraile  men  call  good  ;  but  by  the  course  60 
Of  nature  thou  shouldst  be  as  quickly  chang'd 
As  are  the  windes,  dissembling  as  the  sea, 
That  now  weares  browes  as  smooth  as  virgins  be, 
Tempting  the  merchant  to  invade  his  face, 
And  in  an  houre  cals  his  billows  up,  65 

And  shoots  em  at  the  sun,  destroying  all 
A  carries  on  him.  —  (As'tde^  Oh,  how  nere  am  I 
To  utter  my  sicke  thoughts  ! 

Mel.  But  why,  my  friend,  should  I  be  so  by 
nature  ? 

Amin.  I  have  wed  thy  sister,  who  hath  vertu- 

ous  thoughts  70 

Enow  for  one  whole  family ;  and  it  is  strange 
That  you  should  feele  no  want. 

Mel.  Beleeve    me,  this    is    complement  too 
cunning  for  me. 

Diph.  What  should  I  be  then  by  the  course 

of  nature, 
They  having  both  robd  me  of  so  much  vertue  ?  75 

Sir  a.  Oh,  call  the  bride,  my  lord  Amintor, 
That  wee  may  see  her  blush,  and  turne  her  eies 

downe : 
It  is  the  pritiest  sport. 

Amin.  Evadne ! 

73  this  is  complement.    D,  this  compliment's. 


55 

Evadne  (within).   My  lord  ? 

•Amin.  Come  forth,  my  love  : 

Your  brothers  do  attend  to  wish  you  joy.  80 

Evad.  [within],  I  am  not  ready  yet. 

Amin.  Enough,  enough. 

Evad.  [within].  They'le  mock  me. 

Amin.  Faith,  thou  shalt  come  in. 

Enter  Evadne. 

Mel.  Good  morrow,  sister.    He  that  under- 
stands 

Whom  you  have  wed,  neede  not  to  wish  you  joy ; 
You  have  enough  ;  take  heede  you  be  not  proud.  85 

Dipb.  Oh,  sister,  what  have  you  done  ? 

Evad.  I  done  !  Why,  what  have  I  done  ? 

Stra.  My  lord  Amintor  sweares  you  are  no 
maid  now. 

Evad.  Push ! 

Stra.   I  faith,  he  does. 

Evad.  I  knew  I  should  be  mockt.  90 

Dipb.  With  a  truth. 

Evad.  If  twere  to  doe  againe, 

In  faith  I  would  not  mary. 

Amin.  (aside).  Nor  I,  by  Heaven  ! 

Diph.  Sister,  Dula  sweares 

Shee  heard  you  cry  two  roomes  off. 

Evad.  Fie,  how  you  talke  ! 

8  6- 1 02,   Oh,  sister  .    .    .   the  other  way.    The  arrangement  of 
lines  is  based  on  that  of  Dyce.    B  prints  as  prose. 


56  Wyt  ftepDes  tErageDi?      [ACT  m. 

Diph.  Lets  see  you  walke.  95 

Evad.  By  my  troth  y'are  spoild. 

Mel.  Amintor. — 

Amin.  Ha ! 

Mel.          Thou  art  sad. 

Amin.  Who,  I  ?  I  thanke  you  for  that. 

Shall  Diphilus,  thou,  and  I  sing  a  catch  ? 

Mel.  How  ?  ioo 

Amin.  Prethee,  lets. 

Mel.  Nay,  that's  too  much  the  other  way. 

Amin.  I    am    so    lightned   with    my   happi- 

nesse !  — 
How  dost  thou,  love  ?     Kisse  me. 

Evad.   I  cannot  love  you,  you  tell  tales  of  me.  105 

Amin.  Nothing    but    what    becomes    us. — 

Gentlemen, 
Would  you  had  all  such  wives,  —  and  all  the 

world, 

That  I  might  be  no  wonder !  —  Y'are  all  sad  : 
What,  doe  you  envie  me  ?  I  walke,  methinks, 
On  water,  and  nere  sinke,  I  am  so  light.  no 

Mel.  Tis  well  you  are  so. 

Amin.  Well,  how  can  I  be  other, 

When  shee  lookes  thus  ?  —  Is  there  no  musicke 

there  ? 
Lets  dance. 

95-96  Diph.   Lets  .  .  .  spoild.     Edd.  1778,  W,  and  B,  read: 
Dlph.  Let's  see  you  walk,  Evadne.    By  my  troth,  y'are  spoil'd. 


57 

Why  this  is  strange,  Amintor ! 

Amin.  I  doe  not  know  myselfe ;  yet  I  could 

wish 
My  joy  were  lesse.  115 

Dipb.  He  mary  too,  if  it  will  make  one  thus. 

Evad.  (aside).  Amintor,  harke. 

Amin.  What  saies  my  love  ?  —  I  must  obey. 

Evad.  You  doe  it  scurvily  ;  twill  be  perceiv'd. 

Clean.  My  lord,  the  King  is  here.  iao 

Enter  King  and  Lisip\_pus~^. 

Amin.  Where? 

Stra.  And  his  brother. 

King.   Good  morrow,  all !  — 
Amintor,  joy  on  joy  fall  thicke  upon  thee  !  — 
And,  madame  you  are  alterd  since  I  saw  you ;    1x5 
I  must  salute  you ;  you  are  now  anothers. 
How  lik't  you  your  nights  rest  ? 

Evad.  Ill,  sir. 

Amin.  Indeed, 

She  tooke  but  little. 

Lysippus.  You'le  let  her  take  more, 

And  thanke  her  too,  shortly. 

King.  Amintor,  wert  thou  truely  honest  till    13° 
Thou  wert  maried  ? 

Amin.  Yes,  sir. 

King.  Tell  me,  then,  how  shews 

The  sport  unto  thee  ? 

Amin.  Why,  well. 


58  Qfye  $)ai?De$  tEragr&E      [ACT  m. 

King.  What  did  you  doe  ? 

Amin.  No  more,  nor  lesse  then  other  couples 

use; 
You  know  what  tis ;  it  has  but  a  coarse  name. 

King.  But,  prethee,  I  should  thinke  by  her 

blacke  eie  *35 

And  her  red  cheeke,  shee  should  be  quicke  and 

stirring 
In  this  same  businesse,  ha  ? 

Amin.  I  cannot  tell ; 

I  nere  tried  other,  sir;  but  I  perceive 
She  is  as  quicke  as  you  delivered. 

King.  Well,  youle  trust  me  then,  Amintor,  to 

choose  14° 

A  wife  for  you  agen  ? 

Amin.  No,  never,  sir. 

King.  Why,  like  you  this  so  ill  ? 

Amin.  So  well  I  like  her. 

For  this  I  bow  my  knee  in  thanks  to  you, 
And  unto  Heaven  will  pay  my  gratefull  tribute 
Hourely ;  and  doe  hope  we  shall  draw  out          145 
A  long  contented  life  together  here, 
And  die,  both  full  of  gray  haires,  in  one  day  : 
For  which  the  thanks  is  yours.    But  if  the  powers 
That  rule  us  please  to  call  her  first  away, 
Without  pride  spoke,  this    world  holds  not  a 

wife  150 

Worthy  to  take  her  roome. 


SCENE  I.]  1&ty  $)&$&$     ZtZQtty  59 

King.  I  doe  not  like  this.  —  All  forbeare  the 

roome, 
But  you,  Amintor,  and  your  lady. 

[Exeunt  all  but  the  King,  Amintor,  and  Evadne.] 
I  have  some  speech  with  you  that  may  concerne 
Your  after  living  well.  155 

Amin.  [aside] .  A  will  not  tell  me  that  he  lies 

with  her ! 

If  he  doe,  something  heavenly  stay  my  heart, 
For  I  shall  be  apt  to  thrust  this  arme  of  mine 
To  acts  unlawfull ! 

King.  You  will  suffer  me 

To  talke  with  her,  Amintor,  and  not  have  16° 

A  jealous  pang  ? 

Amin.  Sir,  I  dare  trust  my  wife 

With  whom  she  dares  to  talke,  and  not  be  jeal- 
ous. [Retires.] 
King.  How  doe  you  like  Amintor  ? 
Evad.                                             As  I  did,  sir. 
King.  Howes  that  ? 
Evad.  As  one  that,  to  fulfil  your  will  and 

pleasure,  165 

I  have  given  leave  to  call  me  wife  and  love. 

King.  I  see  there  is  no  lasting  faith  in  sin ; 
They  that  breake  word  with  Heaven  will  breake 

agen 
With  all  the  world,  and  so  doest  thou  with  me  ? 

165  your  "will.    Qi  omits. 


60  Sfce  ^aptoeaf  tErage&i?      [ACT  m. 

Evad.  How,  sir? 

King.  This  subtle  womans  ignorance  170 

Will  not  excuse  you :  thou  hast  taken  oathes, 
So  great,  methought,  they  did  misbecome 
A  womans  mouth,  that  thou  wouldst  nere  injoy 
A  man  but  me. 

Evad.  I  never  did  sweare  so ; 

You  doe  me  wrong. 

King.  Day  and  night  have  heard  it.  175 

Evad.  I  swore  indeed  that  I  would  never  love 
A  man  of  lower  place ;  but,  if  your  fortune 
Should  throw  you  from  this  height,  I  bade  you 

trust 

I  would  forsake  you,  and  would  bend  to  him 
That  won  your  throne  :  I  love  with  my  ambition,  1 80 
Not  with  my  eies.    But,  if  I  ever  yet 
Toucht  any  other,  leprosie  light  here 
Upon  my  face !  which  for  your  royalty 
I  would  not  staine. 

King.  Why,  thou  dissemblest,  and 

It  is  in  me  to  punish  thee. 

Evad.  Why,  it  is  in  me,    185 

Then,  not  to  love  you,  which  will  more  afflict 
Your  body  then  your  punishment  can  mine. 

King .  But  thou  hast  let  Amintor  lie  with  thee. 

Evad.   I  hannot. 

172  methought,  Q3~F.     Qi,  QZ,  that  methought. 
miibecomt.    Qj-F,  D,  B,  not  well  become. 


.]      qfyt  $)a#>e0  tErageDp  61 


King.  Impudence  !  he  saies  himselfe  so. 

Evad.  A  lies. 

King.  A  does  not. 

Evad.  By  this  light,  he  does,  190 

Strangely  and  basely  !  and  lie  prove  it  so. 
I  did  not  only  shun  him  for  a  night, 
But  told  him  I  would  never  close  with  him. 

King.  Speake  lower;  tis  false. 

Evad.  I  am  no  man 

To  answere  with  a  blow  ;  or  if  I  were,  '95 

You  are  the  King.    But  urge  [me]  not  ;  tis  most 
true. 

King.  Doe    not    I    know    the    uncontrouled 

thoughts 
That  youth  brings  with  him  when  his  blood  is 

high 

With  expectation  and  desire  of  that 
He  long  hath  waited  for  ?    Is  not  his  spirit,         aoo 
Though  he  be  temperate,  of  a  valiant  straine 
As  this  our  age  hath  knowne  ?    What  could  he 

doe, 

If  such  a  suddaine  speech  had  met  his  blood, 
But    ruine    thee    forever,  if  he   had    not    kild 

thee  ? 

He  could  not  beare  it  thus  :  he  is  as  we,  205 

Or  any  other  wrong'  d  man. 

Evad.  It  is  dissembling. 

196  me,  Q3.  Qi,  Qz,  omit. 


62  Qfyt  fteE&e*  tErageDp      [ACT  m. 


King.  Take  him  !  farewel  ;  henceforth  I  am 

thy  foe  ; 

And  what  disgraces  I  can  blot  thee  with,  looke 
for. 

Evad.  Stay,  sir.  —  Amintor  !  —  You   shall 
heare.  —  Amintor  ! 

Amin.  ^coming  forward~\  .    What,  my  love  ?      2I° 

Evad.  Amintor,  thou  hast  an  ingenious  look, 
And  shouldst  be  vertuous  :  it  amazeth  me 
That  thou  canst  make  such  base  malicious  lies. 

Amin.  What,  my  deere  wife  ? 

Evad.  Deere  wife  !  I  doe  despise  thee. 

Why,  nothing  can  be  baser  then  to  sow  "5 

Dissention  amongst  lovers. 

Amin.  Lovers,  who  ? 

Evad.  The  King  and  me. 

Amin.  Oh,  God  ! 

Evad.  Who  should  live  long  and  love  with- 

out distast, 

Were  it  not  for  such  pickthanks  as  thyselfe. 
Did  you  lie  with  me?  swearenow,and  be  punishtaao 
In  hell  for  this. 

Amin.  The  faithlesse  sin  I  made 

To  faire  Aspatia  is  not  yet  reveng'd  ; 
It  followes  me.  —  I  will  not  lose  a  word 

212  sbouldst.  Qz,  should'st.  213  canst.    Qz,   can'st 

217   God,  Qz.   Later  editions  change  to  Heaven,  and  so  through- 
out the  play.  223  lose.   Q6,  F,  D,  B.    Qi-Qs,  loose. 


SCENE  I.]  1&ty  $&#)«!  f&W%tty  63 

To  this  vilde  woman :  but  to  you,  my  King, 
The  anguish  of  my  soule  thrusts  out  this  truth,  "5 
Y'are  a  tyrant !  and  not  so  much  to  wrong 
An  honest  man  thus,  as  to  take  a  pride 
In  talking  with  him  of  it. 

Evad.  Now,  sir,  see 

How  loud  this  fellow  lied  ! 

Amin.  You  that  can  know  to  wrong,  should 

know  how  men  230 

Must  right  themselves.    What  punishment  is  due 
From  me  to  him  that  shall  abuse  my  bed  ? 
Is  it  not  death  ?    Nor  can  that  satisfie, 
Unlesse  I  send  your  lives  through  all  the  land, 
To  shew  how  nobly  I  have  freed  myselfe.  *3S 

King.  Draw  not  thy  sword ;  thou  know'st  I 

cannot  feare 

A  subjects  hand ;  but  thou  shall  feele  the  weight 
Of  this,  if  thou  doest  rage. 

Amin.  The  weight  of  that ! 

If  you  have  any  worth,  for  Heavens  sake,  thinke 
I  feare  not  swords;  for,  as  you  are  meere  man, 240 
I  dare  as  easily  kill  you  for  this  deed, 
As  you  dare  thinke  to  doe  it.    But  there  is 
Divinitie  about  you  that  strikes  dead 
My  rising  passions :  as  you  are  my  King, 
I  fall  before  you  and  present  my  sword  *4S 

224  -vilde,  D.    Qq,  F,  wUd.     133  Is  it,  Edd.  1778.  Qq,  F,  It  is. 
234  lives.    Sympson,  D,  limbs. 


64  tEtie  spaces?  {Eragrai?      [ACT  m. 


To  cut  mine  owne  flesh,  if  it  be  your  will. 

Alas,  I  am  nothing  but  a  multitude 

Of  wa[l]king  griefes  !    Yet,  should  I  murder 

you, 

I  might  before  the  world  take  the  excuse 
Of  madnesse  :  for,  compare  my  injuries,  *5° 

And  they  will  well  appeare  too  sad  a  weight 
For  reason  to  endure.    But  fall  I  first 
Amongst  my  sorrowes,  ere  my  treacherous  hand 
Touch  holy  things  !    But  why  (I  know  not  what 
I  have  to  say)  why  did  you  choose  out  me          155 
To  make  thus  wretched  ?    There  were  thou- 

sands, fooles, 

Easie  to  worke  on,  and  of  state  enough, 
Within  the  iland. 

Evad.  I  would  not  have  a-foole; 

It  were  no  credit  for  me. 

Arnm.  Worse  and  worse  ! 

Thou  that  dar'st  talke  unto  thy  husband  thus,    a6o 
Professe  thyselfe  a  whore,  and,  more  then  so, 
Resolve  to  be  so  still  !  —  It  is  my  fate 
To  beare  and  bowe  beneath  a  thousand  griefes, 
To  keepe  that  little  credit  with  the  world  !  — 
But  there  were  wise  ones  too;  you  might  have 

tane  165 

Another. 

248  walking  :    so  Qq,  except  Qz,  which  misprints,  waking. 
256  thousands.  Comma  inserted  by  B.    F,  D,  thousand  fooles. 


SCENE  I.]  {£1)0  ^3^000  1&W%ety  65 


King.  No,  for  I  beleve  [d]  thee  honest 

As  thou  wert  valiant. 

Amin.  All  the  happinesse 

Bestow'd  upon  me  turnes  into  disgrace. 
Gods,  take  your  honesty  againe,  for  I 
Am  loaden  with  it  !  —  Good  my  lord  the  King,  370 
Be  private  in  it. 

King.  Thou  maist  live,  Amintor, 

Free  as  thy  King,  if  thou  wilt  winke  at  this 
And  be  a  meanes  that  we  may  meet  in  secret. 

Amin.   A  baud  !     Hold,  hold,  my  brest  !    A 

bitter  curse 

Seize  me  if  I  forget  not  all  respects  »75 

That  are  religious,  on  another  word 
Sounded  like  that  ;  and  through  a  sea  of  sinnes 
Will  wade  to  my  revenge,  though  I  should  call 
Paines  heere  and  after  life  upon  my  soule  ! 

King.  Well,  I  am  resolute  you  lay  not  with 

her  ;  »8o 

And  so  I  leave  you.  Exit  King. 

Evad.  You  must  needs  be  prating; 

And  see  what  follows  ! 

Amin.  Prethe,  vex  me  not. 

Leave  me.    I  am  afraid  some  sudden  start 
Will  pull  a  murther  on  me. 

Evad.  I  am  gone  ; 

I  love  my  life  well.  Exit  Evadne. 

a66  beleved.    Corrected  by  D. 


66  W$t  Spaces  tErageDi?      [ACT  m. 

Amin.  I  hate  mine  as  much. 

This  tis  to  breake  a  troth !    I  should  be  glad 
If  all  this  tide  of  griefe  would  make  me  mad. 

Exit. 

[SCENE  II.    A  Room  in  the  Palace.~\ 
Enter  Melantius. 

Melantius.  He  know  the  cause  of  all  Amintors 

griefes, 
Or  friendship  shall  be  idle. 

Enter  Calianax. 

Callanax.  Oh,  Melantius, 

My  daughter  will  die  ! 

MeL  Trust  me,  I  am  sorry ; 

Would  thou  hadst  tane  her  roome ! 

Cal.  Thou  art  a  slave, 

A  cut-throat  slave,  a  bloody  treacherous  slave ! 

Mel.  Take  heed,  old  man  ;  thou  wilt  be  heard 

to  rave, 
And  lose  thine  offices. 

Cal.  I  am  valiant  growne 

At  all  these  yeares,  and  thou  art  but  a  slave ! 

Mel.  Leave! 

Some  company  will  come,  and  I  respect 
Thy  yeares,  not  thee,  so  much  that  I  could  wish 
To  laugh  at  thee  alone. 

Cal.  He  spoile  your  mirth  : 


SCENE  II.]          l&ty  tytybtS  f&Wi%tty  67 

I   meane  to  fight  with  thee.     There  lie,  my 

cloake ! 

This  was  my  fathers  sword,  and  he  durst  fight. 
Are  you  prepar'd  ? 

Mel.  Why,  wilt  thou  doate  thyselfe  15 

Out  of  thy  life  ?    Hence,  get  thee  to  bed, 
Have  carefull  looking-to,  and  eate  warme  things, 
And  trouble  not  mee  :  my  head  is  full  of  thoughts 
More  waighty  then  thy  life  or  death  can  be. 
Cal.  You  have  a  name  in  warre,  where  you 

stand  safe  zo 

Amongst  a  multitude  ;  but  I  will  try 
What  you  dare  doe  unto  a  weake  old  man 
In  single  fight.    You'le  give  ground,  I  feare. 
Come,  draw. 

Mel.  I  will  not  draw,  unlesse  thou  pulst  thy 

death  *5 

Upon  thee  with  a  stroke.    Theres  no  one  blow 
That  thou  canst  give  hath  strength  enough  to 

kill  me. 

Tempt  me  not  so  far,  then  ;  the  power  of  earth 
Shall  not  redeeme  thee. 

Cal.  [aside] .  I  must  let  him  alone ; 

Hees  stout  and  able ;  and,  to  say  the  truth,  30 

However  I  may  set  a  face  and  talke, 
I  am  not  valiant.    When  I  was  a  youth, 
I  kept  my  credit  with  a  testie  tricke 
I  had  amongst  cowards,  but  durst  never  fight. 

34  amongst.    Qi,  mongst. 


68  W$t  Spa^Desf  {Erage&E     [ACT  m. 


Mel.  I  will  not  promise  to  preserve  your  life,  35 
If  you  doe  stay. 

Cal.  [aside].     I  would  give  halfe  my  land 
That  I  durst  fight  with  that  proud  man  a  little. 
If  I  had  men  to  hold  him,  I  would  beate  him 
Till  he  aske  me  mercy. 

Mel.  Sir,  wil  you  be  gone  ? 

Cal.  \aside\  .   I  dare  not  stay  ;  but  I  will  goe 

home  and  beat  40. 

My  servants  all  over  for  this.         Exit  Calianax. 

Mel.  This  old  fellow  haunts  me. 
But  this  distracted  carriage  of  mine  Amintor 
Takes  deepely  on  me.    I  will  finde  the  cause  : 
I  fear  his  conscience  cries,  he  wrong'd  Aspatia.     45 
Enter  Amintor. 

Amintor  [aside]  .    Mens  eyes  are  not  so  sub- 

till  to  perceive 

My  inward  miserie  :  I  beare  my  griefe 
Hid  from  the  world.    How  art  thou  wretched 

then  ? 

For  ought  I  know,  all  husbands  are  like  me; 
And  every  one  I  talke  with  of  his  wife  50 

Is  but  a  well  dissembler  of  his  woes, 
As  I  am.    Would  I  knew  it  !  for  the  rarenesse 
Afflicts  me  now. 

Mel.  Amintor,    we    have    not    enjoy'd    our 

39  aske.    Qi,  askt. 

54-63  Amintor  .  .  .  to  met.  As  prose  Qq,  F,  B.  The  orig- 
inal may  have  been  in  verse,  but  its  restoration  seems  impossible. 
Weber  and  Dyce  have  made  attempts. 


SCENE  II.]         Qfyt  $^1)00  3fragel)£  69 


friendship  of  late,  for  we  were  wont  to  change  55 
our  soules  in  talke. 

Amin.  Melantius,  I  can  tell  thee  a  good  jest 
of  Strato  and  a  lady  the  last  day. 

Mel.   How  wast  ? 

Amin.  Why  such  an  odde  one  !  60 

Mel.  I  have  longd  to  speake  with  you  ;  not  of 
an  idle  jest  that's  forc'd,  but  of  matter  that  you 
are  bound  to  utter  to  mee. 

Amin.  What  is  that,  my  friend  ? 

Mel.  I  have  observ'd  your  words  fall  from 

your  tongue  65 

Wildly  ;  and  all  your  carriage 
Like  one  that  strove  to  shew  his  merry  mood, 
When  he  were  ill  dispos'd  :  you  were  not  wont 
To  put  such  scorne  into  your  speech,  or  weare 
Upon  your  face  ridiculous  jollitie. 
Some  sadnesse  sits  here,  which  your  cunning 

would 

Cover  ore  with  smiles,  and  twill  not  be.    What 
is  it  ? 

Amin.  A  sadnesse  here  !  what  cause 
Can  fate  provide  for  me  to  make  me  so  ? 
Am  I  not  lov'd  through  all  this  isle  ?   The  King  75 

55  change,  Th.    Qq,  F,  charge. 

65-66  I  ha-ve  .  .  .  carriage,  so  Qq,  F,  B.  Edd.  1778  et  al. 
end  first  line,  "words. 

73  A  sadnesse  here  !  -what  cause.  D,  A  sadnesse  here,  Melan- 
tius !  what  cause. 


70  tEfce  $ai?&e$  t^rageu^     [ACT  m. 

Raines  greatnesse  on  me.   Have  I  not  received 
A  lady  to  my  bed,  that  in  her  eie 
Keepes  mounting  fire,  and  on  her  tender  cheekes 
Inevitable  colour,  in  her  heart 
A  prison  for  all  vertue  ?    Are  not  you,  80 

Which  is  above  all  joyes,  my  constant  friend  ? 
What  sadnesse  can  I  have  ?    No ;  I  am  light 
And  feele  the  courses  of  my  bloud  more  warme 
And  stirring  than  they  were.    Faith,  mary  too; 
And  you  will  feel  so  unexprest  a  joy  85 

In  chaste  embraces  that  you  will  indeed 
Appeare  another. 

Mel.  You  may  shape,  Amintor, 

Causes  to  cozen  the  whole  world  withall, 
And  you  yourselfe  too ;  but  tis  not  like  a  friend 
To  hide  your  soule   from  me.    Tis  not  your 

nature  9° 

To  be  thus  idle :   I  have  scene  you  stand 
As  you  were  blasted  midst  of  all  your  mirth ; 
Call  thrice  aloud,  and  then  start,  faining  joy 
So  coldly  !  —  World,  what  doe  I  here  ?  a  friend 
Is  nothing !    Heaven,  I  would  ha  told  that  man  95 
My  secret   sinnes !     He    search   an    unknowne 

land, 

And  there  plant  friendship;  all  is  withered  here. 
Come  with  a  complement !  I  would  have  fought, 
Or  told  my  friend  a  lied,  ere  soothd  him  so. 
Out  of  my  bosome  !  100 

79   Inevitable.    Qi,  immutable. 


SCENE  II.]          1&ty  tyWDtS  QtWQtty  7 1 

Amin.  But  there  is  nothing. 

Mel.  Worse  and  worse  !   farewell. 

From  this  time  have  acquaintance,  but  no  friend. 

Amin.  Melantius,  stay  ;  you  shall  know  what 
that  is. 

Mel.  See ;  how  you  plaid  with  friendship  !  be 

advis'd 

How  you  give  cause  unto  yourselfe  to  say  105 

You  ha  lost  a  friend. 

Amin.  Forgive  what  I  ha  done; 

For  I  am  so  oregone  with  injuries 
Unheard  of,  that  I  lose  consideration 
Of  what  I  ought  to  doe.  —  Oh  !  —  Oh  ! 

Mel.   Doe  not  weepe.  no 

What  ist  ?     May  I  once  but  know  the  man 
Hath  turn'd  my  friend  thus  ! 

Amin.  I  had  spoke  at  first, 

But  that  — 

Mel.  But  what  ? 

Amin.  I  held  it  most  unfit 

For  you  to  know.    Faith,  doe  not  know  it  yet. 

Mel.  Thou  seest  my  love,  that  will   keepe 

company  115 

With  thee  in  teares ;  hide  nothing,  then,  from 

me; 
For  when  I  know  the  cause  of  thy  distemper, 

104  See;  how  you  plaid.    No  punctuation  after  See  in  Qq,  F. 
B  conjectures,  See  how  you  play.    Qi  has  fltad  for  plaid. 


72  W$t  f)ai?oe0  {Erage&p      [ACT  m. 

With  mine  old  armour  He  adorne  myselfe, 

My  resolution,  and  cut  through  thy  foes, 

Unto  thy  quiet,  till  I  place  thy  heart  iao 

As  peaceable  as  spotlesse  innocence. 

What  is  it  ? 

Amin.        Why,  tis  this  —  it  is  too  bigge 
To  get  out  —  let  my  teares  make  way  awhile. 

Mel.  Punish  me  strangely,  Heaven,  if  he  es- 
cape 
Of  life  or  fame,  that  brought  this  youth  to  this !  "5 

Amin.  Your  sister  — 

Mel.  Well  sayd. 

Amin.  You'l  wish't  unknowne, 

When  you  have  heard  it. 

Mel.  No. 

Amin.  Is  much  to  blame, 

And  to  the  King  has  given  her  honour  up, 
And  lives  in  whoredome  with  him. 

Mel.  How's  this  ? 

Thou  art  run  mad  with  injury  indeed;  130 

Thou  couldst  not  utter  this  else.     Speake  againe, 
For  I  forgive  it  freely ;  tell  thy  griefes. 

Amin.  Shees  wanton ;  I   am  loth  to  say,   a 

whore, 
Though  it  be  true. 

Mel.  Speake  yet  againe,  before  mine  anger  grow  135 
Up   beyond   throwing    downe :     what   are   thy 
griefes  ? 


ii.]      {Btye  g$)wto8  {Erage&£  73 

Amin.  By  all  our  friendship,  these. 

Mel.  What,  am  I  tame? 

After  mine  actions,  shall  the  name  of  friend 
Blot  all  our  family,  and  strike  the  brand 
Of  whore  upon  my  sister,  unreveng'd  ?  140 

My  shaking  flesh,  be  thou  a  witnesse  for  me 
With  what  unwillingnesse  I  goe  to  scourge 
This  rayler,  whom  my  folly  hath  cald  friend. 
I  will  not  take  thee  basely:  thy  sword 

[Draws  bis  sword.~\ 

Hangs  neere  thy  hand  ;  draw  it  that  I  may  whip  145 
Thy  rashnesse  to  repentance ;  draw  thy  sword  ! 

Amin.  Not  on  thee,  did  thy  anger  goe  as  hie 
As  troubled  waters.    Thou  shouldst  do  me  ease 
Here  and  eternally,  if  thy  noble  hand 
Would  cut  me  from  my  sorrows. 

Mel.  This  is  base          150 

And  fearefull.    They  that  use  to  utter  lies 
Provide  not  blowes  but  words  to  qualifie 
The  men  they  wrong'd.     Thou  hast  a  guilty 
cause. 

Amin.  Thou  pleasest  me ;  for  so  much  more 

like  this 

Will  raise  my  anger  up  above  my  griefes  *55 

(Which  is  a  passion  easier  to  be  borne) 
And  I  shall  then  be  happy. 

139  strike.    Qi,  stick.  147  goe.    Q3,  swell. 

148  troubled  waters,  Qi,  Qz.    £3,  D,  B,  the  wilde  surges. 


74 

.#/<?/.  Take,  then,  more 

To  raise  thine  anger  :  tis  meere  cowardise 
Makes   thee  not  draw;  and  I  will  leave  thee 

dead, 

However.    But  if  thou  art  so  much  prest  160 

With  guilt  and  feare  as  not  to  dare  to  fight, 
He  make  thy  memory  loath'd  and  fixe  a  scandall 
Upon  thy  name  for  ever. 

Amin.  Then  I  draw, 

As  justly  as  our  magistrates  their  swords 
To  cut  offenders  off.    I  knew  before  165 

Twould  grate  your  eares  j  but  it  was  base  in  you 
To  urge  a  waighty  secret  from  your  friend 
And  then  rage  at  it.    I  shall  be  at  ease, 
If  I  be  kild  ;  and,  if  you  fall  by  me, 
I  shall  not  long  outlive  you. 

Mel.  Stay  awhile. —        170 

The  name  of  friend  is  more  than  family 
Or  all  the  world  besides  :  I  was  a  foole. 
Thou  searching  humane  nature  that  didst  wake 
To  doe  me  wrong,  thou  art  inquisitive, 
And  thrusts  me  upon  questions  that  will  take     175 
My  sleepe  away.    Would  I  had  died,  ere  knowne 
This  sad  dishonour !  — pardon  me,  my  friend. 

[Sheaths  his  sword.~\ 

If  thou  wilt  strike,  here  is  a  faithfull  heart ; 
Pierce  it,  for  I  will  never  heave  my  hand 
To  thine.    Behold  the  power  thou  hast  in  me  !  180 


75 

I  doe  beleeve  my  sister  is  a.  whore, 

A  leprous  one.    Put  up  thy  sword,  young  man. 

Amin.  How  should  I  beare  it,  then,  she  being 

so  ? 

I  feare,  my  friend,  that  you  will  lose  me  shortly, 

[Sheaths  his  swordj^ 

And  I  shall  doe  a  foule  act  on  myselfe,  185 

Through  these  disgraces. 

Mel.  Better  halfe  the  land 

Were  buried  quick  together.    No,  Amintor, 
Thou  shalt  have  ease.   Oh,  this  adulterous  King, 
That  drew  her  too't !  where  got  he  the  spirit 
To  wrong  me  so  ? 

Amin.  What  is  it,  then,  to  me,       190 

If  it  be  wrong  to  you  ? 

Mel.  Why,  not  so  much  : 

The  credit  of  our  house  is  throwne  away. 
But  from  his  iron  den  He  waken  Death, 
And  hurle  him  on  this  King  :  my  honestie 
Shall  steele  my  sword  ;  and  on  its  horrid  point  195 
He  weare  my  cause,  that  shall  amaze  the  eyes 
Of  this  proud  man,  and  be  too  glittring 
For  him  to  looke  on. 

Amin.  I  have  quite  undone  my  fame. 

Mel.  Drie  up  thy  watrie  eyes,  200 

And  cast  a  manly  looke  upon  my  face, 
For  nothing  is  so  wilde  as  I  thy  friend 
«95  »«i  Q3-  fi»i  Q*>  my. 


7  6  tE£e  spapoea  {Eragr&p      [ACTIII. 

Till  I  have  freed  thee :  still  this  swelling  brest. 
I  goe  thus  from  thee,  and  will  never  cease 
My  vengeance  till  I  finde  thy  heart  at  peace.      205 
Amin.  It  must  not  be  so.    Stay  !    Mine  eies 

would  tell 

How  loth  I  am  to  this ;  but,  love  and  teares, 
Leave  me  awhile  !   for  I  have  hazarded 
All   that  this  world  cals  happy.  —  Thou  hast 

wrought 

A  secret  from  me,  under  name  of  friend,  210 

Which  art  could  nere  have  found,  or  torture 

wrung 

From  out  my  bosome.    Give  it  me  agen; 
For  I  will  find  it  where  soere  it  lies, 
Hid  in  the  mortal'st  part :  invent  a  way 
To  give  it  backe. 

Mel.  Why  would  you  have  it  backe  ?2i5 

I  will  to  death  pursue  him  with  revenge. 

Amin.  Therefore  I  call  it  backe  from  thee ; 

for  I  know 

Thy  blood  so  high  that  thou  wilt  stir  in  this, 
And    shame    me    to    posterity.     Take    to    thy 
weapon.  \Draws  bis  sword.~\ 

Mel.  Heare  thy  friend  that  beares  more  yeares 

then  thou.  220 

Amin.  I  will  not  heare :  but  draw,  or  I  — 
Mel  Amintor ! 

205  thy,  Qi.    Qz-F,  my. 


77 

Amin.  Draw,  then :  for  I  am  full  as  resolute 
As  fame  and  honour  can  inforce  me  be : 
I  cannot  linger.    Draw  ! 

Mel.  I  doe.    But  is  not 

My  share  of  credit  equall  with  thine,  225 

If  I  doe  stir  ? 

Amin.          No  :   for  it  will  be  cald 
Honor  in  thee  to  spill  thy  sisters  blood, 
If  she  her  birth  abuse ;  and,  on  the  King 
A  brave  revenge  :  but  on  me,  that  have  walkt 
With  patience  in  it,  it  will  fixe  the  name  230 

Of  fearefull  cuckold.   O,  that  word  !  Be  quicke ! 

Mel.  Then,  joyne  with  me. 

Amin.  I  dare  not  doe  a  sinne, 

Or  else  I  would.    Be  speedy. 

Mel.  Then,  dare  not  fight  with  me ;  for  that's 

a  sin.  — 
His   griefe  distracts   him.  —  Call  thy  thoughts 

agen,  235 

And  to  thyselfe  pronounce  the  name  of  friend, 
And  see  what  that  will  worke.    I  will  not  fight. 

Amin.  You  must. 

Mel.   [sheathing  his  sword\ .   I  will  be  kild  first. 

Though  my  passions 
Offered  the  like  to  you,  tis  not  this  earth 

225  thine.    D  suggests,  thine  own. 

232-233   I  .  .   .  speedy.    The  division  of  lines   is  by  editor. 
Qq,  F,  D,  B,  end  lines  with  me,  -would,  speedy. 


78  tEtye  $9a£i)e$  tErageap     [ACT  m. 


Shall  buy  my  reason  to  it.    Thinke  awhile,         »4° 
For  you  are  (I  must  weepe  when  I  speake  that) 
Almost  besides  yourselfe. 

Amin.  [sheathing  his  sword~\  .  Oh,  my  soft  tem- 

per! 

So  many  sweet  words  from  thy  sisters  mouth, 
I  am  afraid  would  make  me  take  her  to 
Embrace,  and  pardon  her.    I  am  mad  indeed      *45 
And  know  not  what  I  doe.    Yet  have  a  care 
Of  me  in  what  thou  doest. 

Mel.  Why,  thinks  my  friend 

I  will  forget  his  honor  ?  or,  to  save 
The  bravery  of  our  house,  will  lose  his  fame, 
And  feare  to  touch  the  throne  of  majestic  ?         a5° 

Amin.  A  curse  will  follow  that  ;   but  rather 

live 
And  suffer  with  me. 

Mel.  I  will  doe  what  worth 

Shall  bid  me,  and  no  more. 

Amin.  Faith,  I  am  sicke, 

And  desperately  I  hope  ;  yet,  leaning  thus, 
I  feele  a  kind  of  ease. 

Mel.  Come,  take  agen  25  5 

Your  mirth  about  you. 

Amin.  I  shall  never  doo't. 

Mel.  I  warrant  you  ;  looke  up  ;  weele  walke 

together  ; 
Put  thine  arme  here  ;  all  shall  be  well  agen  ? 


SCENE  ii.]     Qfyt  tywfixt  {Erage&£  79 

Amin.  Thy  love  (oh,  wretched !)  I,  thy  love, 

Melantius ; 
Why  I  have  nothing  else. 

Mel.  Be  merry  then.          a6o 

Exeunt. 

Enter  Melantius  agen. 

Mel.  This  worthy  yong  man  may  doe  vio- 
lence 

Upon  himselfe,  but  I  have  cherisht  him 
To  my  best  power,  and  sent  him  smiling  from 

me, 

To  counterfeit  againe.    Sword,  hold  thy  edge; 
My  heart  will  never  faile  me. 
Enter  Diphilus. 

Diphilus !  165 

Thou  comst  as  sent. 

Dipbilus.  Yonder  has  bin  such  laughing. 

Mel.  Betwixt  whom  ? 

Diph.  Why,  our  sister  and  the  King. 

I   thought   their  spleenes  would   breakej    they 

laught  us  all 
Out  of  the  roome. 

Mel.  They  must  weepe,  Diphilus. 
Diph.  Must  they  ? 

Mel.  They  must.       170 

Thou  art  my  brother ;  &,  if  I  did  beleeve 

263    To  my  best  power,  Q3  et  al.    Qi,  Qz,  As  well  as  I  could. 
Enter  Diphilus.    This  follows  Thou  comst  as  sent,  in  Qi. 


8o  W$t  $)a2&e$  tErage&p      [ACT  m. 


Thou  hadst  a  base  thought,  I  would  rip  it  out, 
Lie  where  it  durst. 

Diph.  You  should  not;  I  would  first 

Mangle  myselfe  and  finde  it. 

Mel.  That  was  spoke 

According    to    our    straine.    Come,  joyne    thy 

hands  to  mine,  275 

And  sweare  a  firmnesse  to  what  project  I 
Shall  lay  before  thee. 

Diph.  You  doe  wrong  us  both  : 

People  hereafter  shall  not  say  there  past 
A  bond,  more  than  our  loves,  to  tie  our  lives 
And  deaths  together.  280 

Mel.  It  is  as  nobly  said  as  I  would  wish. 
Anon  He  tell  you  wonders  :  we  are  wrong'd. 

Dipb.  But  I  will  tell  you  now,  weele  right 
ourselves. 

Mel.  Stay  not  :    prepare  the  armour  in  my 

house  ; 

And  what  friends  you  can  draw  unto  our  side,   285 
Not  knowing  of  the  cause,  make  ready  too. 
Haste,  Diph  [ilus]  ,  the  time  requires  it,  haste  !  — 

Exit  Dipbilus. 

I  hope  my  cause  is  just  ;  I  know  my  blood 
Tels  me  it  is  ;  and  I  will  credit  it. 
To  take  revenge,  and  lose  myself  withall,  290 

Were  idle;  and  to  scape  impossible, 

275  to  mine.    Qi,  Th,  B,  omit. 


SCENE  II.]         ^0  $^0*0  Q£m%tty  8  1 


Without  I  had  the  fort,  which  (miserie  !  ) 
Remaining  in  the  hands  of  my  old  enemy, 
Calianax  —  but  I  must  have  it.     See, 

Enter  Calianax. 
Where  he  comes  shaking  by  me  !  —  Good  my 

lord,  195 

Forget  your  spleene  to  me  ;  I  never  wrong'd  you, 
But  would  have  peace  with  every  man. 

CaL  Tis  well  ; 

If  I  durst  fight,  your  tongue  would  lie  at  quiet. 

Mel.  Y'are  touchie  without  all  cause. 

CaL  Doe,  mocke  me. 

Mel.  By  mine  honor,  I  speake  truth. 

CaL  Honor  !  where  ist  ?  300 

Mel.  See,  what  starts  you  make 
Into  your  [idle]  hatred  to  my  love 
And  freedome  to  you.     I  come  with  resolution 
To  obtaine  a  sute  of  you. 

CaL  A  sute  of  me  ! 

Tis  very  like  it  should  be  granted,  sir.  305 

Mel.  Nay,  goe  not  hence  : 
Tis  this  ;  you  have  the  keeping  of  the  fort, 
And  I  would  wish  you,  by  the  love  you  ought 
To  beare  unto  me,  to  deliver  it 
Into  my  hands. 

CaL  I  am  in  hope  thou  art  mad,       310 

To  talke  to  me  thus. 

299  all.   Mermaid  ed.  omits.  301  idle.   Only  in  Qi  . 


82  tEPfce  ^a^Desf  tErage&i?      [ACT  m. 


Mel.  But  there  is  a.  reason 

To  move  you  to  it  :  I  would  kill  the  King, 
That  wrong'd  you  and  your  daughter. 

Cal.  Out,  traitor  ! 

Mel.  Nay,  but  stay  :  I  cannot  scape,  the  deed 

once  done, 
Without  I  have  this  fort. 

Cal.  And  should  I  helpe  thee?3is 

Now  thy  treacherous  mind  betraies  itselfe. 

Mel.   Come,  delay  me  not  ; 
Give  me  a  sudden  answere,  or  already 
Thy  last  is  spoke  !    Refuse  not  offered  love 
When  it  comes  clad  in  secrets. 

Cal.  \aside\  .  If  I  say  310 

I  will  not,  he  will  kill  me  ;  I  doe  see't 
Writ  in  his  lookes  ;  and  should  I  say  I  will, 
Heele  run  and  tell  the  King.  —  I  doe  not  shun 
Your  friendship,  deere  Melantius,  but  this  cause 
Is  weighty  :  give  me  but  an  houre  to  thinke.       3*5 

Mel.  Take  it.  —  \Aside^\    I  know  this  goes 

unto  the  King; 
But  I  am  arm'd.  Exit  Melantius. 

Cal.  Methinks  I  feele  myselfe 

But  twenty  now  agen.    This  fighting  foole 
Wants  policie  :  I  shall  revenge  my  girle, 
And  make  her  red  againe.    I  pray  my  legges       33° 
Will  last  that  pace  that  I  will  carry  them  ; 
I  shall  want  breath  before  I  find  the  King. 

Exit. 


ACTUS    QUARTUS. 
[SCENE  I.    An  Apartment  of  Evadne.  ~\ 
Enter  Melantius,  Evadne,  and  a  Lady. 

Melantius.  Save  you 

Evadne.  Save  you,  sweet  brother. 

Mel.  In  my  blunt  eie,  methinks,  you  looke, 
Evadne  — 

Evad.  Come,  you  would  make  me  blush. 

Mel.  I  would,  Evadne  ; 

I  shall  displease  my  ends  else. 

Evad.  You  shall,  if  you 

Commend  me;  I  am  bashfull.    Come, sir, how 

doe 
I  looke  ? 

Mel.    I  would  not  have  your  women  heare  me 
Break  into  commendations  of  you  ;  tis  not 
Seemely. 

Evad.        Goe  waite  me  in  the  gallery. 

Exeunt  Ladies. 
Now  speake. 

Mel.  He  locke  the  dore  first. 

Evad.  Why  ? 

5   Commend.  Qq,  Command.    Corrected  by  Th. 

Exeunt  Ladies.  Qq,  F,  print  this  after  the  dore  first.  The  in- 
consistency between  Ladies  and  a  Lady  at  the  opening  of  the  act 
has  been  corrected  by  modern  editors. 


84  Wyt  $)ai?De0  {ErageDE      [ACT  iv. 


Mel.  I  will  not  have  your  guilded  things,  that 

dance  I0 

In  visitation  with  their  Millan  skins, 
Choake  up  my  businesse. 

Evad.  You  are  strangely  dispos'd,  sir. 

Mel.  Good  madame,  not  to  make  you  merry. 
Evad.  No,  if  you  praise  me,  twill  make  me 

sad. 
Mel.  Such  a  sad  commendation  I  have  for 

you.  15 

Evad.  Brother, 
The  court  has  made  you  wittie,  and  learne  to 

riddle. 
Mel.  I  praise  the  court  for't  :  has  it  learnd 

you  nothing  ? 
Evad.  Me! 
Mel.         I,  Evadne,  thou  art  young  and  han- 

some, 

A  lady  of  a  sweet  complexion,  20 

And  such  a  flowing  carriage  that  it  cannot 
Chuse  but  inflame  a  kingdome. 

Evad.  Gentle  brother  ! 

Mel.  Tis    yet    in    thy    repentance,    foolish 

woman, 
To  make  me  gentle. 

Evad.  How  is  this  ? 

Mel.  Tis  base, 

15  commendation,  Q6.    Qi,  commendations. 


SCENE  I.]  ^J  tyfotfKS  ?&**%&$  85 


And  I  could  blush  at  these  yeeres,  through  all     *5 
My  honord  scars,  to  come  to  such  a  parly. 
Evad.  I  understand  ye  not. 
Mel.  You  dare  not,  foole  ! 

They  that  commit  thy  faults  flie  the  remem- 

brance. 
Evad.  My   faults,   sir  !    I   would   have    you 

know,  I  care  not 
If  they  were  written  here,  here  in  my  forehead.  30 

Mel.  Thy  body  is  too  little  for  the  story  ; 
The  lusts  of  which  would  fill  another  woman, 
Though  she  had  twins  within  her. 

Evad.  This  is  saucie  : 

Looke  you  intrude  no  more.    There  [lies]  your 

way. 
Mel.  Thou  art  my  way,  and  I  will  tread  upon 

thee,  35 

Till  I  find  truth  out. 

Evad.          What  truth  is  that  you  looke  for  ? 
Mel.  Thy  long-lost  honour.    Would  the  gods 

had  set  mee 

Rather  to  grapple  with  the  plague,  or  stand 
One   of  their    loudest    bolts  !    Come,  tell   me 

quickly  ; 

Doe  it  without  inforcement,  and  take  heed  40 

You  swell  me  not  above  my  temper. 

25  through.    Q3,  thorough. 

34   There  lies,  Q$.    Qi,  Qz,  Theres. 


86  Ws^t  f)ai?&e0  tErage&s      [ACT  iv. 


Evad.  How  sir  ! 

Where  got  you  this  report  ? 

Mel.  Where  there  was  people, 

In  every  place. 

Evad.  They  and  the  seconds  of  it 

Are  base  people  ;  beleeve  them  not  ;  they  lied. 
Mel.  Do  not  play  with  mine  anger  ;  doe  not, 

wretch  ! 
I  come  to  know  that  desperate  foole  that  drew 

thee 

From  thy  faire  life  :  be  wise  and  lay  him  open. 
Evad.  Unhand  me,  and  learne  manners  !  such 

another 
Forgetfulnesse  forfets  your  life. 

Mel.  Quench  me  this  mighty  humour,  and 

then  tell  me 

Whose  whore  you  are;  for  you  are  one,  I  know  it. 
Let  all  mine  honors  perish  but  He  find  him, 
Though  he  lie  lockt  up  in  thy  bloud  !  Be  sudden  ; 
There  is  no  facing  it  ;  and  be  not  flattered  ; 
The  burnt  aire  where  the  Dog  raignes  is  not 

fouler 

Than  thy  contagious  name,  till  thy  repentance 
(If  the  gods  grant  thee  any)  purge  thy  sicknesse. 
Evad.  Begone  !   you  are  my  brother  ;    thats 

your  safety. 

Mel.  He  be  a  wolfe  first  :  tis,  to  be  thy  brother, 
An  infamy  below  the  sinne  of  coward. 


SCENE  I.]  f&ty  $$Wfit8  1&Wi$tty  87 

I  am  as  far  from  being  part  of  thee 

As  thou  art  from  thy  vertue :  seeke  a  kindred 

Mongst  sensuall  beasts,  and  make  a  goat  thy 

brother ; 
A  goat  is  cooler.    Will  you  tell  me  yet  ? 

Evad.  If  you  stay  here  and  raile  thus,  I  shall 

tell  you  65 

He  ha  you  whipt.    Get  you  to  your  command, 
And  there  preach  to  your  centinels,  and  tell  them 
What  a  brave  man  you  are  :  I  shall  laugh  at  you. 
Mel.  Y'are  growne  a  glorious  whore  !   Where 

be  your  fighters  ? 
What   mortall    foole    durst    raise  thee  to  this 

daring,  70 

And  I  alive !    By  my  just  sword,  h'ad  safer 
Bestrid  a  billow  when  the  angry  North 
Plowes  up  the  sea,  or  made  Heavens  fire  his  foe  ! 
Worke  me  no  hier.    Will  you  discover  yet  ? 
Evad.  The  fellowes  mad.    Sleepe,  and  speake 

sense.  75 

Mel.  Force  my  swolne  heart  no  further :  I 

would  save  thee. 
Your  great  maintainers  are  not  here ;  they  dare 

not : 
Would    they  were    all,  and   armed !    I    would 

speake  loud  : 

7*  Bestrid.    Qz,  Bestride.     73  foe.    Only  in  Qi.   Qz,  food. 
76-85   Force  .   .  .  canter.    Prose  in  Qq  and  F. 


88  Qfyt  spaces?  {Eraser^      [ACT  iv. 


Heres  one  should  thunder  to  'em  !  Will  you  tell 

me  ?  — 

Thou  hast  no  hope  to  scape  :  he  that  dares  most  8<? 
And  dams  away  his  soule  to  doe  thee  service, 
Will  sooner  snatch  meat  from  a  hungry  lyon 
Then    come    to  rescue  thee  ;  thou  hast    death 

about  thee  — 

Has  undone  thine  honour,  poyson'd  thy  vertue, 
And,  of  a  lovely  rose,  left  thee  a  canker.  85 

Evad.  Let  me  consider. 
Mel.  Doe,  whose  childe  thou  wert, 

Whose  honour  thou  hast  murdered,  whose  grave 

opened, 

And  so  pul'd  on  the  gods  that  in  their  justice 
They  must  restore  him  flesh  agen  and  life, 
And  raise  his  dry  bones  to  revenge  this  scandall.  9° 
Evad.  The  gods  are  not  of  my  minde  ;  they 

had  better 
Let  'em  lie  sweet  still  in  the  earth  ;  they'l  stinke 

here. 

Mel.  Doe  you  raise  mirth  out  of  my  easinesse  ? 
Forsake  me,  then,  all  weaknesses  of  nature, 
That  make  men  women!    Speake,  you  whore, 

speake  truth,  95 

Or,  by  the  deare  soule  of  thy  sleeping  father, 
This  sword  shall  be  thy  lover  !    Tell,  or  lie  kill 

thee; 
And,  when  thou  hast  told  all,  thou  wilt  deserve  it. 

84  Has.    F,  H'as  ;  D,  He  has. 


SCENE  I.]  ^0  tyfcWt*  ®W%tty  89 


Evad.  You  will  not  murther  me  ? 

Mel.  No  ;  tis  a  justice,  and  a  noble  one,         100 
To  put  the  light  out  of  such  base  offenders. 

Evad.  Helpe! 

Mel.  By  thy  foule  selfe,  no   humane  helpe 

shal  help  thee, 

If  thou  criest  !     When  I  have  kild  thee,  as  I 
Have  vow'd  to  doe,  if  thou  confesse  not,  naked  105 
As  thou  hast  left  thine  honor,  will  I  leave  thee, 
That  on  thy  branded  flesh  the  world  may  read 
Thy  blacke  shame  and  my  justice.    Wilt  thou 
bend  yet  ? 

Evad.  Yes. 

Mel.  Up,  and  begin  your  storie. 

Evad.   Oh,  I  am  miserable  !  no 

Mel.  Tis  true,  thou  art.    Speake  truth  still. 

Evad.  I  have  offended  :  noble  sir,  forgive  me  ! 

Mel.  With  what  secure  slave  ? 

Evad.  Doe  not  ask  me,  sir; 

Mine  owne  remembrance  is  a  miserie 
Too  mightie  for  me. 

Mel.  Do  not  fall  back  agen;      n; 

My  sword's  unsheathed  yet.  * 

Evad.  What  shall  I  doe  ? 

Mel.  Be  true,  and  make  your  fault  lesse. 

Evad.  I  dare  not  tell. 

Mel.  Tell,  or  He  be  this  day  a-killing  thee. 

Evad.  Will  you  forgive  me,  then  ? 


90  W$t  spaces  tErage&iJ      [ACT  iv. 

Mel.  Stay ;  I  must  aske  mine  honor  first.       120 
I  have  too  much  foolish  nature  in  me.    Speake. 
Evad.  Is  there  none  else  here  ? 
Mel.  None  but  a  fearefull  conscience ;  thats 

too  many. 
Who  1st  ? 

Evad.       Oh,  heare  me  gently !    It  was  the 

King. 
Mel.  No  more.    My  worthy  fathers  and  my 

services  125 

Are  liberally  rewarded  !    King,  I  thanke  thee  ! 
For  all  my  dangers  and  my  wounds  thou  hast 

paid  me 
In    my     owne     metall :     these    are     souldiers 

thanks !  — 
How  long  have  you  lived  thus,  Evadne  ? 

Evad.  Too  long. 

Mel.  Too  late  you  find  it.   Can  you  be  sorry  ?  130 
Evad.  Would  I  were  halfe  as  blamelesse ! 
Mel.  Evadne,  thou  wilt  to  thy  trade  againe. 
Evad.  First  to  my  grave. 
Mel.  Would  gods  thou  hadst  beene  so 

blest ! 

Dost  thou  not  hate  this  King  now  ?  prethe  hate 
him. 

119—130    Too  .    .   .   sorry. 

Qi,   Evad.    Too  long,  too  late  I  finde  it. 
Mel.   Can  you  be  very  sorry  ? 


SCENE  i.]      fty  $W>e$  1&w%tty  91 

Could'st  thou  not  curse  him  ?   I  command  thee, 

curse  him;  135 

Curse  till  the  gods  heare,  and  deliver  him 
To  thy  just  wishes.    Yet  I  feare,  Evadne, 
You  had  rather  play  your  game  out. 

Evad.  No;  I  feele 

Too  many  sad  confusions  here,  to  let  in 
Any  loose  flame  hereafter.  140 

Mel.  Dost  thou  not  feele  amongst  all  those, 

one  brave  anger 

That  breakes  out  nobly  and  directs  thine  arme 
To  kill  this  base  King  ? 

Evad.  All  the  gods  forbid  it ! 

MeL  No,  all  the  gods  require  it ! 
They  are  dishonored  in  him. 

Evad.  Tis  too  fearefull.  145 

Mel.   Y'are    valiant    in    his    bed,    and    bold 

enough 
To  be  a  stale  whore,  and  have  your  madams 

name 

Discourse  for  groomes  and  pages ;  and  hereafter, 
When  his  coole  majestic  hath  laid  you  by, 
To  be  at  pension  with  some  needie  sir  150 

For  meat  and  courser  cloathes  ;  thus  far  you 

know 
No  feare.    Come,  you  shall  kill  him. 

135   Could  'st  thou  not  curse  him  f  Qi ,  Has  sunke  thy  faire  soule. 
151  know.    Qi,  had.    £3,  knew. 


92  Qfyt  spaces  {Erage&i?      [ACT  iv. 

Evad.  Good  sir ! 

Mel.   An   twere  to  kisse  him  dead,  thoudst 

smoother  him  : 
Be  wise,  and   kill   him.    Canst  thou  live,  and 

know 

What  noble  minds  shall  make  thee,  see  thyselfex55 
Found  out  with  every  finger,  made  the  shame 
Of  all  successions,  and  in  this  great  ruine 
Thy  brother  and  thy  noble  husband  broken  ? 
Thou  shalt  not  live  thus.  Kneele  and  sweare  to 

helpe  me, 

When  I  shall  call  thee  to  it;  or,  by  all  160 

Holy  in  Heaven  and  earth,  thou  shalt  not  live 
To  breath  a  full  houre  longer ;  not  a  thought ! 
Come,  tis  a  righteous  oath.  Give  me  thy 

hand[s], 
And,  both  to  Heaven  held  up,  swear,  by  that 

wealth 

This  lustfull  theefe  stole  from  thee,  when  I  say  it,  165 
To  let  his  foule  soule  out. 

Evad.  Here  I  sweare  it ;      [Kneels."] 

And,  all  you  spirits  of  abused  ladies, 
Helpe  me  in  this  performance ! 

Mel.  [raising  her] .  Enough  !    This  must  be 

knowne  to  none 
But  you  and  I,  Evadne,  not  to  your  lord,  170 

155  make  tbee,  see  thy  self e.    Qz,  make  thee  see  thyselfe. 
163  Aands,  Edd.  1778. 


SCENE  I.]  $t  $^0*0        **%&?  93 

Though  he  be  wise  and  noble,  and  a  fellow 
Dares  step  as  farre  into  a  worthy  action 
As  the  most  daring,  I,  as  farre  as  justice. 
Aske  me  not  why.    Farewell.    Exit  Mel\_antius\ . 
Evad.  Would  I  could  say  so  to  my  blacke 

disgrace !  175 

Oh,  where  have  I  beene   all   this   time  ?   how 

friended 

That  I  should  lose  myselfe  thus  desperately, 
And  none  for  pittie  shew  me  how  I  wandred  ? 
There  is  not  in  the  compasse  of  the  light 
A   more    unhappy  creature :  sure  I  am   mon- 
strous; 1 80 
For  I  have  done  those  follies,  those  mad  mis- 

chiefes, 

Would  dare  a  woman.    Oh,  my  loaden  soule, 
Be  not  so  cruell  to  me ;  choake  not  up 
The  way  to  my  repentance  ! 

Enter  Amintor. 

Oh,  my  lord ! 
Amin.  How  now  ? 

Evad.         My  much  abused  lord  !     [Kneels.'] 
Amin.  This  cannot  be  !  185 

Evad.  I  doe  not  kneele  to  live ;  I  dare  not 

hope  it ; 

The  wrongs  I  did  are  greater.  Looke  upon  me, 
Though  I  appeare  with  all  my  faults. 

Enter  Amintor.    In  Qa  this  follows  1.  183. 


94  ie  tyw*t#    rage&E      [ACT  iv. 

Amin.  Stand  up. 

This  is  a  new  way  to  beget  more  sorrow : 
Heaven  knowes  I  have  too  many.    Doe  not 

mocke  me :  190 

Though    I    am    tame   and   bred    up  with    my 

wrongs, 

Which  are  my  foster-brothers,  I  may  leape, 
Like  a  hand-wolf,  into  my  naturall  wildnesse, 
And  doe  an  outrage  :  prethee,  doe  not  mocke  me. 

Evad.  My  whole  life  is  so  leaprous,  it  infects  195 
All  my  repentance.    I  would  buy  your  pardon, 
Though  at  the  highest  set,  even  with  my  life : 
That  sleight  contrition,  that['s]  no  sacrifice 
For  what  I  have  committed. 

Amin.  Sure,  I  dazle  : 

There  cannot  be  a  faith  in  that  foule  woman,    200 
That    knowes    no  god  more  mighty  than  her 

mischiefes. 

Thou  doest  still  worse,  still  number  on  thy  faults, 
To  presse  my  poore  heart  thus.    Can  I  beleeve 
Theres  any  seed  of  vertue  in  that  woman 
Left  to  shoot  up,  that  dares  goe  on  in  sinne,       205 
Knowne,    and    so    knowne    as   thine  is  ?    Oh, 

Evadne ! 
Would  there  were  any  safetie  in  thy  sex, 

189  a.    Only  in  Qi.    Qz,  no.    sorrow.    Qi,  sorrows. 
198  that's  no,  Q6-B.    Qi,  2^,  that;  no.   Q3,  Q4,  thats  ;  no. 
QS,  thats  no. 


SCENE  I.]  0  ^3^000  ge&l?  95 

That  I  might  put  a  thousand  sorrowes  off, 
And  credit  thy  repentance  !  but  I  must  not. 
Xhou  hast  brought  me  to  that  dull  calamitie,      «o 
To  that  strange  misbeleefe  of  all  the  world 
And  all  things  that  are  in  it,  that  I  feare 
I  shall  fall  like  a  tree,  and  find  my  grave, 
Only  remembring  that  I  grieve. 

Evad.  My  lord, 

Give  me  your  griefes  ;  you  are  an  innocent,        215 
A  soule  as  white  as  Heaven ;  let  not  my  sinnes 
Perish  your  noble  youth.    I  doe  not  fall  here 
To  shadow  by  dissembling  with  my  teares 
(As  all  say  women  can)  or  to  make  lesse 
What  my  hot  will  hath  done,  which  Heaven  & 

you  aao 

Knowes  to  be  tougher  than  the  hand  of  time 
Can  cut  from  mans  remembrance  j  no,  I  doe 

not; 

I  doe  appeare  the  same,  the  same  Evadne, 
Drest  in  the  shames  I  liv'd  in,  the  same  mon- 
ster. 

But  these  are  names  of  honour  to  what  I  am  ;   "5 
I  doe  present  myself  the  foulest  creature, 
Most  poisonous,  dangerous,  and  despisde  of  men, 
Lerna  ere  bred  or  Nilus.    I  am  hell, 
Till  you,  my  deare  lord,  shoot  your  light  into  me, 
The  beames  of  your  forgivenesse ;  I  am  soule- 

sicke,  230 


96  Wsp  Spaces  tErageDi?      [ACT  iv. 

And  wither  with  the  feare  of  one  condemn'd, 

Till  I  have  got  your  pardon. 

Amin.  Rise,  Evadne ; 

Those  heavenly  powers  that  put  this  good  into 
thee 

Grant  a  continuance  of  it !    I  forgive  thee ; 

Make  thyselfe  worthy  of  it,  and  take  heed,         235 

Take  heed,  Evadne,  this  be  serious. 

Mocke  not  the  powers  above  that  can  and  dare 

Give  thee  a  great  example  of  their  justice 

To  all  insuing  eies,  if  thou  plai'st 

With  thy  repentance,  the  best  sacrifice.  240 

Evad.  I  have  done  nothing  good  to  win  be- 
leefe, 

My  life  hath  been  so  faithlesse.    All  the  crea- 
tures, 

Made    for    Heavens    honors,  have  their  ends, 
and  good  ones, 

All  but  the  cousening  crocodiles,  false  women  : 

They  reigne  here  like  those  plagues,  those  kill- 
ing sores,  245 

Men  pray  against  \  and  when  they  die,  like  tales 

111  told  and  unbeleev'd,  they  passe  away, 

And  goe  to  dust  forgotten.    But,  my  lord, 

Those  short  daies  I  shall  number  to  my  rest 

(As  many  must  not  see  me)  shall,  though  too 

late,  250 

239  ties.    W,  D,  B,  ages. 


SCENE  I.]  0  $$*$*&  1n%tty  97 

Though  in  my  evening,  yet  perceive  a  will, 
Since  I  can  doe  no  good,  because  a  woman, 
Reach  constantly  at  something  that  is  neere  it : 
I  will  redeeme  one  minute  of  my  age, 
Or,  like  another  Niobe,  He  weepe  255 

Till  I  am  water. 

Amtn.  I  am  now  dissolved  ; 

My  frozen  soule  melts.    May  each  sin  thou  hast 
Finde  a  new  mercy  !   Rise ;  I  am  at  peace. 
Hadst  thou  beene  thus,  thus  excellently  good, 
Before  that  devill-king  tempted  thy  frailty,          260 
Sure  thou  hadst  made  a  star.    Give  me  thy  hand  : 
From  this  time  I  will  know  thee ;  and,  as  far 
As  honor  gives  me  leave,  be  thy  Amintor. 
When  we  meet  next,  I  will  salute  thee  fairely, 
And  pray  the  gods  to  give  thee  happy  daies ;       265 
My  charity  shall  goe  along  with  thee, 
Though  my  embraces  must  be  far  from  thee. 
I  should  ha'  kild  thee,  but  this  sweet  repentance 
Lockes  up  my  vengeance ;  for  which  thus  I  kisse 

thee  — 
The    last  kisse   we  must   take :   and  would  to 

Heaven  270 

The  holy  priest  that  gave  our  hands  together 
Had  given  us  equall  vertues  !   Goe,  Evadne ; 
The  gods  thus  part  our  bodies.    Have  a  care 
My  honour  falles  no  farther :   I  am  well,  then. 
Evad.  All  the  deare   joys   here,  and    above 

hereafter,  275 


98  W$t  i)ai?De0  {Efrageap      [ACT  iv. 


Crowne  thy  faire  soule  !  Thus  I  take  leave,  my 

lord; 

And  never  shall  you  see  the  foule  Evadne, 
Till  she  have  tried  all  honoured  meanes  that  may 
Set  her  in  rest  and  wash  her  staines  away. 

Exeunt. 

[SCENE  II.  A  hall  in  the  Palace.] 
Banquet.    Enter  King,  Calianax.    Hoboyesplay  within. 

King.  I  cannot  tell  how  I  should  credit  this 
From  you  that  are  his  enemie. 

Calianax.  I  am  sure 

He  said  it  to  me  ;  and  He  justifie  it 
What  way    he   dares   oppose  —  but   with    my 
sword. 

King.  But  did  he  breake,  without  all  circum- 

stance, 

To  you,  his  foe,  that  he  would  have  the  fort, 
To  kill  me  and  then  scape  } 

Cal.  If  he  denie  it, 

He  make  him  blush. 

King.  It  sounds  incredibly. 

Cal.  I,  so  does  everything  I  say  of  late. 

King.  Not  so,  Calianax. 

Cal.  Yes,  I  should  sit 

Mute,  whilst  a  rogue  with  strong  armes  cuts 
your  throat. 


SCENE  II.]         tEt)0  tytyW  ^tageD^  99 

King.  Well,  I  will  trie  him ;  and,  if  this  be 

true, 

He  pawn  my  life  He  find  it ;  if  't  be  false 
And  that  you  cloath  your  hate  in  such  a  lie, 
You  shall  hereafter  doate  in  your  owne  house,     15 
Not  in  the  court. 

Cat.  Why,  if  it  be  a  lie, 

Mine  eares  are  false,  for  lie  be  sworne  I  heard 

it. 

Old  men  are  good  for  nothing :  you  were  best 
Put  me  to  death  for  hearing,  and  free  him 
For  meaning  it.    You  would  a  trusted  me  zo 

Once,  but  the  time  is  altered. 

King.  And  will  still, 

Where  I  may  doe  with  justice  to  the  world ; 
You  have  no  witnesse. 

Cal.  Yes,  myselfe. 

King.  No  more, 

I  meane,  there  were  that  heard  it. 

Cal.  How  ?  no  more  ! 

Would  you  have  more  ?  why,  am  not  I  enough  15 
To  hang  a  thousand  rogues  ? 

King.  But  so  you  may 

Hang  honest  men  too,  if  you  please. 

Cal.  I  may ! 

Tis  like  I  will  doe  so :  there  are  a  hundred 
Will  sweare  it  for  a  need  too,  if  I  say  it  — 

13  if' *•  Q*>  *'. 


loo          tEflhe  $)ai?&e0  tErageDi?      [ACT  iv. 

King.  Such  witnesses  we  need  not. 
Cal.  And  tis  hard  30 

If  my  word  cannot  hang  a  boisterous  knave. 
King.  Enough.  —  Where's  Strato  ? 

Enter  Strat[o]. 

Strato.  Sir  ? 

King.  Why,  wheres  all  the  company  ?     Call 

Amintor  in ; 

Evadne.     Wheres  my  brother  and  Melantius  ? 
Bid  him  come  too,  and  Diphilus.    Call  all  35 

That  are  without  there.  — (Exit  Strat[o~\.)     If 

he  should  desire 

The  combat  of  you,  tis  not  in  the  power 
Of  all  our  lawes  to  hinder  it,  unlesse 
We  meane  to  quit  'em. 

Cal.  Why,  if  you  doe  thinke 

Tis  fit  an  old  man  and  a  counsellor  40 

To  fight  for  what  he  saies,  then  you  may  grant  it. 
Enter   Amint\_or~\,    Evad\ne~\,    Melant\iui\y    Dipb- 
\ilus\,  Lisip\_pus\,  Ck\pn\,  Stra[to,  and~\ 

Diag  [oras] . 
King.   Come,  sirs  !  —  Amintor,  thou  art  yet  a 

bridegroome, 

And  I  will  use  thee  so  ;  thou  shalt  sit  downe.  — 
Evadne,  sit ;  —  and  you,  Amintor,  too ; 
This  banquet  is  for  you,  sir.  —  Who  has  brought  45 
A  merry  tale  about  him  to  raise  laughter 

Enter  Strato.      In  Qi  this  follows  Sir. 


SCENE  II.]         Qfyt  tytyDt*  tErage&t>  101 

Amongst  our  wine  ?    Why,  Strato,  where  art 

thou  ? 

Thou  wilt  chop  out  with  them  unseasonably, 
When  I  desire  'em  not. 

Stra.  Tis  my  ill  lucke,  sir,  so  to  spend  them, 
then.  50 

King.  Reach  me  a  boule  of  wine.  —  Melan- 

tius,  thou 
Art  sad. 

[Melantius  J\  I  should  be,  sir,  the  merriest  here, 
But  I  ha  nere  a  story  of  mine  own 
Worth  telling  at  this  time. 

King.  Give  me  the  wine. — 

Melantius,  I  am  now  considering  55 

How  easie  twere  for  any  man  we  trust 
To  poyson  one  of  us  in  such  a  boule. 

Mel.    I  thinke  it  were  not  hard,  sir,   for  a 
knave. 

Cal.  ^aside~\.  Such  as  you  are. 

King.  I   faith,  twere   easie.    It    becomes   us 

well  60 

To  get  plaine  dealing  men  about  ourselves ; 
Such  as  you  all  are  here.  —  Amintor,  to  thee ; 
And  to  thy  faire  Evadne. 

Mel.  (aside).  Have  you  thought 

Of  this,  Calianax  ? 

Cal.  Yes,  marry,  have  I. 

54  Melantius.    Only  Qi.    Qi-F,  Amin. 


102          W$t  spaces  Qfrage&i?      [ACT  iv. 

Mel.  And  whats  your  resolution  ? 

Co/.  Ye  shall  have  it  —  65 

[dside.~\   Soundly,  I  warrant  you. 

King.  Reach  to  Amintor,  Strato. 

Amintor.  Here,  my  love  : 

[Drinks,  and  hands  the  cup  to  Evadne.~\ 
This  wine  will  doe  thee  wrong,  for  it  will  set 
Blushes  upon  thy  cheekes ;  and,  till  thou  dost 
A  fault,  twere  pitty. 

King.  Yet  I  wonder  much  70 

[At]  the  strange  desperation  of  these  men 
That  dare  attempt  such  acts  here  in  our  state : 
He  could  not  scape  that  did  it. 

Mel.  Were  he  knowne, 

Unpossible. 

King.          It  would  be  knowne,  Melantius. 

Mel.  It  ought  to  be.    If  he  got  then  away,       75 
He  must  weare  all  our  lives  upon  his  sword : 
He  need  not  flie  the  island  ;  he  must  leave 
No  one  alive. 

King.  No;  I  should  thinke  no  man 

Could  kill  me  and  scape  cleare,  but  that  old  man. 

Cal.  But  I  !    Heaven  blesse  me !    I !  should 
I,  my  liege  ?  80 

King.  I  doe  not  think  thou  wouldst,  but  yet 

thou  mightst, 

For  thou  hast  in  thy  hands  the  meanes  to  scape, 
71  At,  Th-B.    Qq,  F,  Of. 


SCENE  II.] 

By  keeping  of  the  fort.  —  He  has,  Melantius, 
And  he  has  kept  it  well. 

Mel.  From  cobwebs,  sir; 

Tis  clean  swept:   I  can  find  no  other  art  85 

In  keeping  of  it  now  :  twas  nere  besieg'd 
Since  he  commanded. 

CaL  I  shall  be  sure 

Of  your  good  word :  but  I  have  kept  it  safe 
From  such  as  you. 

Mel.  Keepe  your  ill  temper  in ; 

I  speake  no  malice ;  had  my  brother  kept  it,        90 
I  should  ha  sed  as  much. 

King.  You  are  not  merry. 

Brother,  drinke  wine.   Sit  you  all  still  ?  —  (Aside) 

Calianax, 

I  cannot  trust  this ;  1  have  throwne  out  words, 
That  would  have  fetcht  warme  blood  upon  the 

cheekes 

Of  guilty  men,  and  he  is  never  mov'd ;  9S 

He  knowes  no  such  thing. 

Gal.  Impudence  may  scape, 

When  feeble  vertue  is  accus'd. 

King.  A  must, 

If  he  were  guilty,  feele  an  alteration 
At  this  our  whisper,  whilst  we  point  at  him : 
You  see  he  does  not. 

Cal.  Let  him  hang  himselfe ;    100 

What  care  I  what  he  does  ?  this  he  did  say. 
93  this,  D.    Qq,  F,  thus. 


104 

King .  Melan  [tius] ,  you  can  easily  conceive 
What  I  have  meant ;  for  men  that  are  in  fault 
Can  subtly  apprehend  when  others  aime 
At  what  they  doe  amisse :  but  I  forgive  105 

Freely  before  this  man, —  Heaven  doe  so  too! 
I  will  not  touch  thee,  so  much  as  with  shame 
Of  telling  it.  Let  it  be  so  no  more. 

Gal.  Why,  this  is  very  fine ! 

Mel.  I  cannot  tell 

What  tis  you  meane;  but  I  am  apt  enough        no 
Rudely  to  thrust  into  [an]  ignorant  fault. 
But  let  me  know  it :  happily  tis  nought 
But  misconstruction ;  and,  where  I  am  cleare, 
I  will  not  take  forgivenesse  of  the  gods, 
Much  less  of  you. 

King.  Nay,  if  you  stand  so  stifFe,   115 

I  shall  call  back  my  mercy. 

Mel.  I  want  smoothnes 

To  thanke  a  man  for  pardoning  of  a  crime 
I  never  knew. 

King.  Not  to  instruct  your  knowledge,  but 

to  show  you 

My  eares  are  everywhere;  you  meant  to  kill  me, iao 
And  get  the  fort  to  scape. 

Mel.  Pardon  me,  sir; 

My  bluntnesse  will  be  pardoned.    You  preserve 
A  race  of  idle  people  here  about  you, 

in   an.    Inserted  by  Th. 


ii.]     <El)r  $a$>e0  tEwgeDE          105 

Facers  and  talkers,  to  defame  the  worth 

Of  those  that  doe  things  worthy.    The  man  that 

uttered  this  "5 

Had  perisht  without  food,  bee't  who  it  will, 
But  for  this  arme,  that  fenst  him  from  the  foe  : 
And  if  I  thought  you  gave  a  faith  to  this, 
The  plainnesse  of  my  nature  would  speake  more. 
Give  me  a  pardon  (for  you  ought  to  doo't)          130 
To  kill  him  that  spake  this. 

Cal.  [aside] .  I,  that  will  be 

The  end  of  all ;  then  I  am  fairely  paide 
For  all  my  care  and  service. 

Mel.  That  old  man, 

Who  cals  me  enemy,  and  of  whom  I 
(Though  I  will  never  match  my  hate  so  low)     135 
Have  no  good  thought,  would  yet,  I  thinke, 

excuse  me, 
And  sweare  he  thought  me  wrong' d  in  this. 

Cal.  Who,  I  ? 

Thou  shamelesse  fellow !  didst  thou  not  speake 

to  me 
Of  it  thyselfe  ? 

Mel.  O,  then  it  came  from  him  ! 

Cal.  From  me  !  who  should  it  come  from  but 
from  me  ?  140 

Mel.  Nay,  I  beleeve  your  malice  is  enough  : 
But  I  ha  lost  my  anger.  —  Sir,  I  hope 
You  are  well  satisfied. 

114  Facers,  Qi.    Qz  «  a!.,  Eaters. 


106          f&ty  9&at?ue0  tErageDi?      [ACT  iv. 


King.  Lisip  [pus]  ,  cheare 

Amintor  &  his  lady  :  theres  no  sound 
Comes  from  you;  I  will  come  and  doo't  myselfe.  145 

Amin.  You  have  done  already,  sir,  for  me,  I 
thanke  you. 

King.  Melantius,  I  doe  credit  this  from  him, 
How  sleight  so  ere  you  mak't. 

Mel.  Tis  strange  you  should. 

Cal.  Tis    strange    a    should    beleeve  an  old 

mans  word 
That  never  lied  ins  life  ! 

Mel.  I  talke  not  to  thee.  —  150 

Shall  the  wilde  words  of  this  distempered  man, 
Franticke  with  age  and  sorrow,  make  a  breach 
Betwixt  your  majestic  and  me  ?    Twas  wrong 
To  harken  to  him;  but  to  credit  him, 
As  much  at  least  as  I  have  power  to  beare.         155 
But  pardon  me,  (whilst  I  speake  onely  truth, 
I  may  commend  myselfe)  I  have  bestowd 
My  carelesse  blood  with  you,  and  should  be  loth 
To  thinke  an  action  that  would  make  me  lose 
That  and  my  thankes  too.    When  I  was  a  boy,  1  60 
I  thrust  myselfe  into  my  countries  cause 
And  did  a  deed  that  pluckt  five  yeares  from  time 
And  stil'd  me  man  then.  And  for  you,  my  King, 
Your  subjects  all  have  fed  by  vertue  of 
My  arme;  this  sword  of  mine  hath  plowd  the 

ground  165 


ii.]     qtty  spaces  tErage&t>          107 

And  reapt  the  fruit  in  peace ; 

And  you  yourselfe  have  liv'd  at  home  in  ease. 

So  terrible  I  grew,  that  without  swords 

My  name  hath  fetcht  you  conquest :  and  my  heart 

And  limmes  are  still  the  same,  my  will  as  great  170 

To  doe  you  service.    Let  me  not  be  paid 

With  such  a  strange  distrust. 

King.  Melant  [ius] , 

I  held  it  great  injustice  to  beleeve 
Thine  enemie,  and  did  not ;  if  I  did, 
I  doe  not;  let  that  satisfie.  —  What,  strucke      175 
With  sadnesse  all  ?    More  wine  ! 

Cal.  A  few  fine  words 

Have  overthrowne  my  truth.    Ah,  th'art  a  vil- 
laine ! 

Mel.  (aside).    Why,  thou  wert  better  let  me 

have  the  fort : 

Dotard,  I  will  disgrace  thee  thus  for  ever ; 
There  shall  no  credit  lie  upon  thy  words  :  180 

Thinke  better,  and  deliver  it. 

Cal.  My  leige, 

Hees  at  me  now  agen  to  doe  it.  —  Speake  j 
Denie  it,  if  thou  canst.  —  Examine  him 
Whilst  he  is  hot,  for  if  hee  coole  agen, 
He  will  forsweare  it. 

King.  This  is  lunacie,  185 

I  hope,  Melantius. 

177  Ah,  F.    Qq,  A. 


io8 

Mel.  He  hath  lost  himselfe 

Much,  since  his  daughter  mist  the  happinesse 
My  sister  gaind  j  and,  though  he  call  me  foe, 
I  pittie  him. 

Cal.  Pittie  !  a  pox  upon  you  ! 

Mel.  Marke  his  disordered  words  :  and  at  the 

maske  '9° 

Diagoras  knows  he  rag'd  and  raild  at  me, 
And  cald  a  lady  "  whore,"  so  innocent 
She  understood  him  not.    But  it  becomes 
Both  you  and  me  too  to  forgive  distraction  : 
Pardon  him,  as  I  doe. 

Cal.  He  not  speake  for  thee,  *95 

For  all  thy  cunning.  —  If  you  will  be  safe, 
Chop  off  his  head,  for  there  was  never  knowne 
So  impudent  a  rascall. 

King.  Some  that  love  him 

Get  him  to  bed.    Why,  pittie  should  not  let 
Age  make  itselfe  contemptible ;  wee  must  be     aoo 
All  old.   Have  him  away. 

Mel.  [a$ide~\.  Calianax, 

The  King  beleeves  you;  come, you  shall  go  home 
And  rest ;  you  ha  done  well.  Youle  give  it  up 
When  I  have  us'd  you  thus  a  month,  I  hope. 

Cal.    Now,    now,  tis    plaine,  sir;    he    does 
move  me  still :  *°5 

189  Pittie.    Qz,  A  pittie.      191   Diagoras  .  .   .  at  me.    Qi, 
Qa,  print  Mel.  before  this  line. 


SCENE  II.] 

He  saies  he  knowes  He  give  him  up  the  fort, 
When  he  has  usd  me  thus  a  month.    I  am  mad, 
Am  I  not,  still  ? 

Omnes.  Ha,  ha,  ha  ! 

Cat.  I  shall  be  mad  indeed,  if  you  doe  thus. 
Why  should  you  trust  a  sturdie  fellow  there       210 
(That  has  no  vertue  in  him,  als  in  his  sword) 
Before  me  ?  Doe  but  take  his  weapons    from 

him, 

And  hees  an  asse;  and  I  am  a  very  foole, 
Both  with  him  and  without  him,  as  you  use  me. 

Omnes.  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  "5 

King.  Tis  well,  Cal[ianax]  :  but  if  you  use 
This  once  agen,  I  shall  intreat  some  other 
To  see  your  offices  be  well  discharg'd.  — 
Be  merry,  gentlemen.  —  It   growes   somewhat 

late. — 
Amintor,  thou  wouldst  be  a-bed  agen.  aao 

Amin.  Yes,  sir. 

King.          And  you,  Evadne.  —  Let  me  take 
Thee  in  my  armes,  Melantius,  &  beleeve 
Thou  art,  as  thou  deservest  to  be,  my  friend 
Still  and  for  ever.  —  Good  Cal[ianax], 
Sleepe  soundly ;  it  will  bring  thee  to  thyselfe.     "5 
Exeunt  omnes.    Manent  Mel\antius\  &  Cal\ianax\ . 

Cal.  Sleepe  soundly  !  I  sleepe  soundly  now, 
I  hope ; 

214  -with  him  and  -without  him.  D,  B,  with  'em  and  without  'em. 


no  je  $a$)e0      age&i?      [ACTIV. 

I  could  not  be  thus  else.  —  How  dar'st   thou 

stay 
Alone  with  me,  knowing  how  thou  hast  used  me  ? 

Mel.  You  cannot  blast  me  with  your  tongue, 

and  thats 
The  strongest  part  you  have  about  you. 

Cal.  I          t 

Doe  looke  for  some  great  punishment  for  this ; 
For  I  begin  to  forget  all  my  hate, 
And  tak't  unkindly  that  mine  enemie 
Should  use  me  so  extraordinarily  scurvily. 

Mel.  I  shall  melt  too,  if  you  begin  to  take      5 
Unkindnesses  :   I  never  meant  you  hurt. 

Cal.  Thoult  anger  me  agen.   Thou  wretched 

roague, 

Meant  me  no  hurt !  disgrace  me  with  the  King ! 
Lose  all  my  offices  !  This  is  no  hurt, 
Is  it  ?  I  prethee,  what  dost  thou  call  hurt  ?          t 

Mel.  To  poyson  men,  because  they  love  me 

not; 

To  call  the  credit  of  mens  wives  in  question ; 
To  murder  children  betwixt  me  and  land ; 
This  I  call  hurt. 

Cal.  All  this  thou  thinkst  is  sport, 

For  mine  is  worse  ;  but  use  thy  will  with  me,    5 
For  betwixt  griefe  and  anger  I  could  crie. 

Mel.  Be  wise,  then,  and  be  safe ;  thou  mai'st 
revenge  — 


ii.]     f&ty  tywfix*  1&w%tDv          1 1 1 

Cal.  I,  o  th'  King.    I  would  revenge  of  thee. 

Mel,  That  you  must  plot  yourselfe. 

Cal.  I  am  a  fine  plotter. 

Mel.  The  short  is,  I  will  hold  thee  with  the 

King  450 

In  this  perplexity,  till  peevishnesse 
And  thy  disgrace  have  laid  thee  in  thy  grave : 
But  if  thou  wilt  deliver  up  the  fort, 
lie  take  thy  trembling  body  in  my  armes, 
And  beare  thee  over  dangers  :  thou  shalt  hold    255 
Thy  wonted  state. 

Cal.  If  I  should  tell  the  King, 

Canst  thou  deni't  agen  ? 

Mel.  Trie,  and  beleeve. 

Cal.  Nay,  then,  thou  canst   bring  anything 

about. 
[Melantius],  thou  shalt  have  the  fort. 

Mel.  Why,  well. 

Here  let  our  hate  be  buried ;  and  this  hand         a6o 
Shall  right  us  both.    Give  me  thy  aged  brest 
To  compasse. 

Cal.  Nay,  I  doe  not  love  thee  yet ; 

I  cannot  well  endure  to  looke  on  thee ; 
And  if  I  thought  it  were  a  curtesie, 
Thou  shouldst  not  have  it.    But  I  am  disgrac't ;  465 
My  offices  are  to  be  taen  away ; 
And  if  I  did  but  hold  this  fort  a  day, 

259  Melantius.  Only  Qi. 


[ACTIV. 

I  doe  beleeve  the  King  would  take  it  from  me, 
And  give  it  thee,  things  are  so  strangely  carried. 
Nere  thanke  me  for't  j  but  yet  the  King  shall 

know  27* 

There  was  some  such  thing  in't  I  told  him  of, 
And  that  I  was  an  honest  man. 

Mel.  Heele  buy 

That  knowledge  very  deerely. 
Enter  Dipbilus. 

Diph  [ilus] , 
What  newes  with  thee? 

Diphilus.  This  were  a  night  indeed 

To  doe  it  in ;  the  King  hath  sent  for  her.  275 

Mel.  Shee   shall   performe   it,  then.  —  Goe, 

Diph  [ilus] , 

And  take  from  this  good  man,  my  worthy  friend, 
The  fort ;  heele  give  it  thee. 

Diph.  Ha  you  got  that  ? 

Cal.  Art  thou  of  the  same  breed  ?    Canst  thou 

denie 
This  to  the  King  too  ? 

Diph.  With  a  confidence          280 

As  great  as  his. 

Cal.  Faith,  like  enough. 

Mel.  Away,  and  use  him  kindly. 

Cal.  Touch  not  me; 

I  hate  the  whole  straine.    If  thou  follow  me 
A  great  way  off,  He  give  thee  up  the  fort ; 
And  hang  yourselves. 


113 

Mel.  Begone ! 

Diph.  Hees  finely  wrought.  285 

Exeunt  Cal[ianax  and]  Diph  \ilus\ . 

Mel.  This  is  a  night,  spight  of  astronomers, 
To  doe  the  deed  in.    I  will  wash  the  staine 
That  rests  upon  our  house  off  with  his  bloud. 
Enter  Amintor. 

Amin.  Melantius,  now   assist   me;    if  thou 

beest 

That  which  thou  saist,  assist  me.    I  have  lost     290 
All  my  distempers  and  have  found  a  rage 
So  pleasing.    Helpe  me ! 

Mel.  [aside] .  Who  can  see  him  thus, 

And  not  sweare  vengeance  ?  —  Whats  the  mat- 
ter, friend? 

Amin.  Out   with   thy  sword ;    and,  hand  in 

hand  with  mee, 

Rush  to  the  chamber  of  this  hated  King,  295 

And  sinke  him  with  the  weight  of  all  his  sinnes 
To  hell  for  ever. 

Mel.  Twere  a  rash  attempt, 

Not  to  be  done  with  safety.    Let  your  reason 
Plot  your  revenge,  and  not  your  passion. 

Amin.  If  thou  refusest  me  in  these  extremes,  300 
Thou  art  no  friend.    He  sent  for  her  to  me ; 
By  Heaven,  to  me,  myselfe !   and,  I  must  tell 

7e> 
I  love  her  as  a  stranger  :  there  is  worth 


H4          tU^e  spaces  &rage&£      [ACTIV. 

In  that  vild  woman,  worthy  things,  Melantius, 
And  she  repents.    He  doo't  myselfe  alone,  3° 

Though  I  be  slaine.    Farewell. 

Mel.  \aside~\.  Heele  overthrow 

My  whole  designe  with  madnes.  —  Amintor, 
Thinke  what  thou  doest :   I  dare  as  much  as 

valour : 

But  tis  the  King,  the  King,  the  King,  Amintor, 
With  whom  thou   fightest !  —  (Aside?)  I  know 

hees  honest,  31 

And  this  will  worke  with  him. 

Amin.  I  cannot  tell 

What  thou  hast  said ;  but  thou  hast  charm'd  my 

sword 

Out  of  my  hand,  and  left  me  shaking  here, 
Defenselesse. 

Mel.  I  will  take  it  up  for  thee. 

Amin.  What  a  wild  beast  is  uncollected  man  !  31 
The  thing  that  we  call  honor  beares  us  all 
Headlong  unto  sinne,  and  yet  itselfe  is  nothing. 

Mel.  Alas,  how  variable  are  thy  thoughts  ! 

Amin.  Just  like  my  fortunes.     I  was  run  to 

that 

I  purpos'd  to  have  chid  thee  for.    Some  plot,      31 
I  did  distrust,  thou  hadst  against  the  King, 
By  that  old  fellowes  carriage.    But  take  heede ; 
Theres  not  the  least  limbe  growing  to  a  king 
But  carries  thunder  in't. 


ii.]     {E&e  $a#)e0  tEragetn? 


Mel.  I  have  none 

Against  him. 

Amin.      Why,  come  then,  and  still  remember  3*5 
Wee  may  not  thinke  revenge. 

Mel.  I  will  remember. 

Exeunt. 


ACTUS   5 

[SCENE  I.    A  Room  in  the  Palace.] 
Enter  Evadne  and  a  Gentleman  [of  the  Bed-chamber.] 

Evadne.  Sir,  is  the  King  a-bed  ? 

Gentleman.  Madame,  an  houre  agoe. 

Evad.  Give  me  the  key  then,  and  let  none 

be  neere. 
Tis  the  Kings  pleasure. 

Gent.    I    understand    you,    madamej    would 

twere  mine  ! 

I  must  not  wish  good  rest  unto  your  ladiship. 
Evad.  You  talke,  you  talke. 
Gent.  Tis  all  I  dare  doe,  madame ;  but  the 

King 
Will  wake,  and  then,  [methinks  —  ] 

Evad.  Saving  your   imagination,  pray,  good 

night,  sir. 
Gent.  A  good  night  be  it  then,  and  a  long  one, 

madam. 

I  am  gone.  Exit. 

Evad.  The  night    growes   horrible  ;  and  all 

about  me, 

Like  my  blacke  purpose.    Oh,  the  conscience 

King  abed. 

8  metbinks.    Only  Qi.     1 1   Exit,  so  Qi,  Qz.     Q3-F,  mark 
no  exit.    W,  D,  B,   begin  a  new  scene  here. 


S«N*I.]      tBtye  ^ap&esf  {Erageoi? 

Of  a  lost  virgin,  whither  wilt  thou  pull  me  ? 
To  what  things  dismall  as  the  depth  of  hell          15 
Wilt  thou  provoke  me  ?    Let  no  woman  dare 
From  this  houre  be  disloyall,  if  her  heart  be 

flesh, 

If  she  have  blood  and  can  feare.    Tis  a  daring 
Above  that  desperate  fooles  that  left  his  peace, 
And  went  to  sea  to  fight :  tis  so  many  sins,          20 
An  age  cannot  repent  'm  ;  and  so  great 
The  gods  want  mercy  for.    Yet  I  must  through 

'm: 

I  have  begun  a  slaughter  on  my  honour, 
And  I  must  end  it  there.  —  A  sleepes.    Good 

Heavens ! 

Why  give  you  peace  to  this  untemperate  beast,  25 
That  hath  so  long  transgrest  you  ?    I  must  kill 

him, 

And  I  will  doo't  bravely  :  the  meere  joy 
Tels  me,  I  merit  in  it.    Yet  I  must  not 
Thus  tamely  doe  it  as  he  sleepes  —  that  were 
To  rock  him  to  another  world :  my  vengeance     3o 
Shall  take  him  waking,  and  then  lay  before  him 
The  number  of  his  wrongs  and  punishments  : 
He  shape  his  sins  like  Furies,  till  I  waken 
His  evill  angell,  his  sicke  conscience, 

14  -virgin.    Ql,  B,  virtue. 

21   repent.    Only  Ql.    Qz  et  a/.,    prevent. 

24  Good  Heavens!   Qi,  B,  Oh  God! 


n8 

And  then  lie  strick  him  dead.    King,  by  your 

leave  —  Ties  his  armes  to  the  bed.    3  5 

I  dare  not  trust  your  strength ;  you  [r]   grace 

and  I 

Must  grapple  upon  even  tearmes  no  more. 
So,  if  he  raile  me  not  from  my  resolution, 
I  shall  be  strong  enough.  —  My  lord,  the  King  ! 
My  lord  !  —  A  sleepes  as  if  he  meant  to  wake     40 
No  more.  —  My  lord  !  —  Is  he  not  dead  already  ? 
Sir,!  My  lord ! 

King.   Whose  that  ? 

Evad.  Oh,  you  sleepe  soundly,  sir  ! 

King.  My  deare  Evadne, 

I  have  been  dreaming  of  thee  :  come  to  bed. 
Evad.  I  am  come  at    length,  sir;  but  how 

welcome  ?  45 

King.  What    prettie    new    device    is    this, 

Evadne  ? 

What,  doe  you  tie  me  to  you  ?    By  my  love, 
This  is  a  queint  one.    Come,  my  deare,  and 

kisse  me ; 
He  be  thy  Mars ;  to  bed,  my  queene  of  love  : 

38-30    So,  if  .   .   .  the  King!   Qi  reads  :  — 

So  if  he  raile  me  not  from  my  resolution, 
As  I  beleeve  I  shall  not,  I  shall  fit  him. 
My  lord,  the  King  !   etc. 

39-42  The  arrangement  of  the  verse  follows  D  and  Th.  Qq, 
F,  B,  end  the  verse  lines  with  enough  .  .  .  sleepes  .  .  .  lord 
.  .  .  lord. 


i.]      {Eije  $)a$)e$  tErage&E          119 

Let  us  be  caught  together,  that  the  gods  50 

May  see  and  envie  our  embraces. 

Evad.  Stay,  sir,  stay; 

You  are  too  hot,  and  I  have  brought  you  physick 
To  temper  your  high  veines. 

King.  Prethee,  to  bed,  then ;  let  me  take  it 

warme ; 
There  thou  shalt  know  the  state  of  my  body 

better.  55 

Evad.  I    know   you  have  a  surfeited  foule 

body; 

And  you  must  bleed.  [Draws  a  knife.'] 

King.  Bleed ! 

Evad.  I,  you  shall  bleed.    Lie  still ;  and,  if 

the  devill, 
Your  lust,  will  give  you  leave,  repent.     This 

steele 

Comes  to  redeeme  the  honor  that  you  stole,         60 
King,  my  faire  name  ;  which  nothing  but  thy 

death 
Can  answere  to  the  world. 

King.  How's  this,  Evadne  ? 

Evad.  I  am  not  she;  nor  beare  I  in  this  breast 
So  much  cold  spirit  to  be  cald  a  woman  • 
I  am  a  tiger  ;  I  am  anything  65 

That  knowes  not  pittie.    Stirre   not :   if  thou 

doest, 
He  take  thee  unprepar'd,  thy  feares  upon  thee, 


120 

That  make  thy  sins  looke  double,  and  so  send 

thee 

(By  my  revenge,  I  will!)  to  looke  those  tor- 
ments 

Prepar'd  for  such  blacke  soules.  70 

King.  Thou  doest  not  meane  this ;  tis  im- 
possible ; 
Thou  art  too  sweet  and  gentle. 

Evad.  No,  I  am  notj 

I  am  as  foule  as  thou  art,  and  can  number 
As  many  such  hels  here.  I  was  once  faire, 
Once  I  was  lovely  ;  not  a  blowing  rose  75 

More  chastly  sweet,  till  thou,  thou,  thou  foule 

canker, 
(Stirre  not)  didst  poison  me.    I  was  a  world  of 

vertue 
Till  your  curst  court  and  you  (Hell  blesse  you 

for't) 

With  your  temptations  on  temptations 
Made  me  give  up  mine  honour;  for  which,  King,  80 
I  am  come  to  kill  thee. 
King.  No ! 

Evad.  I  am. 

King.  Thou  art  not! 

I    prethee    speake  not  these  things:   thou  art 

gentle, 
And  wert  not  meant  thus  rugged. 

Evad.  Peace,  and  heare  me. 


SCENE  I.]          l&ty  ty*$)t8  1&m%tty  121 

Stirre  nothing  but  your  tongue,  and    that   for 

mercy 

To  those  above  us  ;  by  whose  lights  I  vow,          85 
Those  blessed  fires  that  shot  to  see  our  sinne, 
If  thy  hot  soule  had  substance  with  thy  bloud, 
I  would  kill  that  too,  which  being  past  my  steele, 
My  tongue  shall  reach.    Thou  art  a  shamelesse 

villaine ; 

A  thing  out  of  the  overcharge  of  nature,  90 

Sent,  like  a  thicke  cloud,  to  disperse  a  plague 
Upon  weake  catching  women ;  such  a  tyrant 
That  for  his  lust  would  sell  away  his  subjects, 
I,  all  his  Heaven  hereafter  ! 

King.  Heare,  Evadne, 

Thou  soule  of  sweetnesse,  heare  !   I  am  thy  King.  95 

Evad.  Thou  art  my  shame !  Lie  still ;  theres 

none  about  you, 

Within  your  cries ;  all  promises  of  safety 
Are  but  deluding    dreames.    Thus,  thus,  thou 

foule  man, 
Thus  I  begin  my  vengeance  !  Stabs  him. 

King.  Hold,  Evadne ! 

I  do  command  thee  hold. 

Evad.  I  doe  not  meane,  sir,  100 

To  part  so  fairely  with  you ;  we  must  change 
More  of  these  love  trickes  yet. 

King.  What  bloudie  villaine 

Provok't  thee  to  this  murther? 


122 

Evad.  Thou,  thou  monster  ! 

King.  Oh! 

Evad.  Thou  keptst  me  brave  at  court,  and 

whorde  me,  King;  105 

Then  married  me  to  a  young  noble  gentleman, 
And  whorde  me  still. 

King.  Evadne,  pittie  me  ! 

Evad.   Hell  take  me,  then  !  This  for  my  lord 

Amintor ! 

This  for  my  noble  brother !  And  this  stroke 
For  the  most  wrong'd  of  women  !  Kih  him. 

King.  Oh  !   I  die.    no 

Evad.  Die  all  our  faults  together !  I  forgive 
thee.  Exit. 

Enter  two  \_Gentlemen~^  of  the  Bed-chamber. 

ist  Gentleman.  Come,  now  shees  gone,  lets 
enter;  the  King  expects  it  and  will  be  angry. 

2nd  Gentleman.  Tis  a  fine  wench ;  weele  have 
a  snap  at  her  one  of  these  nights  as  she  goes  115 
from  him. 

1st  Gent.  Content.  How  quickly  hee  had 
done  with  her !  I  see  kings  can  do  no  more  that 
way  than  other  mortall  people. 

2d  Gent.  How  fast  he  is  !  I  cannot  heare  him"o 
breathe. 

ist  Gent.  Either  the  tapers  give  a  feeble  light, 
Or  hee  lookes  very  pale. 

Exit.   Qa,  Exeunt. 


SCENE  i.]      tE&e  $Dai?ae0  {Erage&E  123 

2d  Gent.  And  so  he  does  : 

Pray  Heaven  he  be  well ;  lets  looke  —  Alas  ! 
Hees  stiffe,  wounded,  and  dead  !   Treason,  trea- 
son !  1*5 
ist  Gent.  Run  forth  and  call. 
2d  Gent.  Treason,  treason  ! 

Exit  [Second]  Gent\_leman~\. 
1st  Gent.  This  will  be  laid  on  us : 

Who  can  beleeve  a  woman  could  doe  this  ? 

Enter  Clean  and  Lisippus. 
Clean.  How  now  !  wheres  the  traitor  ? 
ist  Gent.  Fled,  fled  away  !   but  there  her  woe- 
full  act  130 
Lies  still. 

Clean.     Her  act !  a  woman  ! 

Lysippus.  Wheres  the  body  ? 

1st  Gent.  There. 

Lys.  Farewell,  thou  worthy  man  !  there  were 

two  bonds 

That  tied  our  loves,  a  brother  and  a  king, 
The  least  of  which  might  fetch  a  floud  of  teares  ;iss 
But  such  the  miserie  of  greatnesse  is, 
They  have  no  time  to  mourne ;  then,  pardon  me ! 
Sirs,  which  way  went  she  ? 

Enter  Strata. 

Strata.  Never  follow  her; 

For  she,  alas  !  was  but  the  instrument. 

Exit  Gentleman.    In  Qa,  after  1.  126. 


124          Qtt)t  spaces  tZPrageu?       [ACTV. 

Newes  is  now  brought  in  that  Melantius  140 

Has  got  the  fort,  and  stands  upon  the  wall, 

And  with  a  loud  voice  cals  those  few  that  passe 

At  this  dead  time  of  night,  delivering 

The  innocence  of  this  act. 

Lys.  Gentlemen, 

I  am  your  King. 

Strat.  We  doe  acknowledge  it.          145 

Lys.  I  would  I  were  not !   Follow  all ;  for  this 

Must  have  a  sudden  stop.  Exeunt. 

[SCENE   II.    Before  the  Fort.'] 

Enter  Melant  [iui\  ,  Dipb  [ilus,  and~\  Cal\_ianax\ ,  on 
the  Walls. 

Melantius.  If  the  dull  people  can  beleeve  I 

am  arm'd, 

(Be  constant,  Diph[ilus],)  now  we  have  time 
Either  to  bring  our  banisht  honors  home, 
Or  create  new  ones  in  our  ends. 

Diphilus.  I  feare  not ; 

My  spirit  lies  not  that  way.  —  Courage,  Cal- 

ianax !  5 

Calianax.    Would   I   had  any !    You  should 

quickly  know  it. 

Mel.  Speake  to  the  people;  thou  art  eloquent. 
Cat.  Tis  a  fine  eloquence  to  come  to  the  gal- 
lowes : 


SCENE  II.]  ty  ^3$)*$        W%tty  125 

You  were  born  to  be  my  end ;  the  devill  take 

you  ! 

Now  must  I  hang  for  companie.    Tis  strange, 
I  should  be  old  and  neither  wise  nor  valiant. 
Enter  Lisip\j>us\,  Diag\prai\t  Clean,  Strat\p,  ancf\ 

Guard. 

Lysippus.  See  where  he  stands,  as  boldly  con- 
fident 

As  if  he  had  his  full  command  about  him. 
Strata.   He  lookes  as  if  he  had  the  better  cause, 

sir; 

Under  your  gracious  pardon,  let  me  speake  it. 
Though  he  be  mighty-spirited  and  forward 
To  all  great  things,  to  all  things  of  that  danger 
Worse  men  shake  at  the  telling  of,  yet  certainly 
I  doe  beleeve  him  noble,  and  this  action 
Rather  puld  on  then  sought :  his  mind  was  ever 
As  worthy  as  his  hand. 

Lys.  Tis  my  feare  too. 

Heaven    forgive    all  !  —  Summon    him,    Lord 

Cleon. 

Clean.   Ho,  from  the  wals  there ! 
Mel.  Worthy  Cleon,  welcome  : 

We  could  have  wisht  you  here,  lord ;  you  are 

honest. 
Cal.  (aside).  Well,  thou  art    as    flattering  a 

knave,  though 
I  dare  not  tell  thee  so  — 


[ACTV. 

Lys.  Melantius  ! 


Sir? 
Lys.  I  am  sorry  that  we  meet  thus  ;  our  old 

love 

Never  requir'd  such  distance.   Pray  [to]  Heaven, 
You   have  not   left   yourselfe   and  sought   this 

safety 

More  out  of  feare  than  honor  !    You  have  lost     30 
A  noble  master;  which  your  faith,  Melantius, 
Some   thinke   might   have  preserved  ;   yet   you 

know  best. 
Cal.  [aside]  .  When  time  was,  I   was  mad  • 

some  that  dares  fight, 
I  hope  will  pay  this  rascall. 

Mel.  Roy  all  young  man  ;  those  teares  looke 

lovely  on  thee  :  35 

Had  they  beene  shed  for  a  deserving  one, 
They  had  beene  lasting  monuments.    Thy  bro- 

ther, 
Whil'st  he  was  good,  I  cald    him  King,  and 

serv'd  him 
With   that   strong  faith,  that  most   unwearied 

valour 

Puld  people  from  the  farthest  sunne  to  seeke  him,  40 
And  buy  his  friendship.   I  was  then  his  souldier. 

a8  to.    Only  in  Qi. 

3*  Some  .   .   .   best.    Qi,  I'm  sure  might  have  preserved. 
41  buy.    Qi,  D,  B,  beg. 


SCENE  II.] 

But  since  his  hot  pride  drew  him  to  disgrace  me, 
And  brand  my  noble  actions  with  his  lust, 
(That  never  cur'd  dishonor  of  my  sister, 
Base  staine  of  whore,  and,  which  is  worse,  the 

joy  45 

To  make  it  still  so)  like  myselfe,  thus  I 
Have  flung  him  off  with  my  allegeance ; 
And  stand  here,  mine  owne  justice,  to  revenge 
What  I  have  suffered  in  him,  and  this  old  man 
Wrong'd  almost  to  lunacie. 

Gal  Who,  I  ?  so 

You  wud  draw  me  in.    I  have  had  no  wrong; 
I  doe  disclaime  ye  all. 

Mel.  The  short  is  this. 

Tis  no  ambition  to  lift  up  myselfe 
Urgeth  me  thus ;  I  doe  desire  againe 
To  be  a  subject,  so  I  may  be  free ;  55 

If  not,  I  know  my  strength,  and  will  unbuild 
This  goodly  towne.    Be  speedy  and  be  wise 
In  a  reply. 

Strat.        Be  sudden,  sir,  to  tie 
All  up  againe.    What's  done  is  past  recall, 
And  past  you  to  revenge ;  and  there  are  thou- 
sands 60 
That  wait  for  such  a  troubled  houre  as  this. 
Throw  him  the  blanke. 

45-47  Base  .   .   .  allegeance,  the  verse  division  of  D.    Qq,  F, 
B,  end  lines  with  worse  .   .   .   myselfe  .   .    .  allegeance. 


128 

Lys.  Melantius,  write  in  that 

Thy  choice :  my  scale  is  at  it. 

[  Throws  a  paper  to  Melantius. ,] 

Mel.  It  was  our  honours  drew  us  to  this  act, 
Not  gaine ;  and  we  will  only  worke  our  pardons.  65 

Cal.  Put  my  name  in  too. 

Diph.  You  disclaim'd  us  all 

But  now,  Calianax. 

Cal.  Thats  all  one ; 

He  not  be  hangd  hereafter  by  a  tricke ; 
He  have  it  in. 

Mel.  You  shall,  you  shall  — 

Come  to  the  backe  gate,  and  weele  call   you 

King,  70 

And  give  you  up  the  fort. 

Lys.  Away,  away ! 

Exeunt  Omnes. 

[SCENE  III.      Ante-room  to  Amintor's  Apartments^ 

Enter  Aspatia,  in  mans  apparell,  \_and  with  artificial 
scars  on  her  face.  ] 

Aspatia.  This    is  my   fatall   houre.    Heaven 

may  forgive 

My  rash  attempt,  that  causelessly  hath  laid 
Grifes  on  me  that  will  never  let  me  rest, 
And  put  a  womans  hart  into  my  breast. 
It  is  more  honor  for  you  that  I  die ;  5 


129 

For  she  that  can  endure  the  misery 
That  I  have  on  me,  and  be  patient  too, 
May  live  and  laugh  at  al  that  you  can  doe.  — 
God  save  you,  sir  ! 

Enter  Servant. 
Servant.       And  you,  sir !    Whats  your  busi- 

nesse  ? 
Asp.  With  you,  sir,  now ;  to  doe  me  the  faire 

office  10 

To  helpe  me  to  your  lord. 

Ser.  What,  would  you  serve  him  ? 

Asp.  He  doe  him  any  service ;  but,  to  haste, 
For  my  affaires  are  ernest,  I  desire 
To  speake  with  him. 

Ser.  Sir,  because   you  are   in   such  haste, 

would  15 

Bee  loth  to  delay  you  longer :  you  can  not. 
Asp.  It  shall  become  you,  though,  to  tell  your 

lord. 

Ser.  Sir,  he  will  speake  with  nobody ; 
[But  in  particular,  I  have  in  charge, 
About  no  waightie  matters.] 

Asp.  This  is  most  strange,  ao 

Art  thou  gold-proofe  ?  theres  for  thee ;  helpe  me 

to  him. 

Ser.  Pray  be  not  angry,  sir  j  He  doe  my  best. 

Exit. 

9   God.     Qz,  misprints  Cod. 

19—20   But  in  particular  ....   matters.      Only  in  Ql. 


130 

Asp.  How  stubbornly  this   fellow  answer'd 

me ! 

There  is  a  vild  dishonest  tricke  in  man, 
More  then  in  women.    All  the  men  I  meet          *S 
Appeare  thus  to  me,  are  harsh  and  rude, 
And  have  a  subtletie  in  every  thing, 
Which  love  could  never  know ;  but  we  fond 

women 

Harbour  the  easiest  and  the  smoothest  thoughts, 
And  thinke  all  shall  goe  so.    It  is  unjust  3° 

That  men  and  women  should  be  matcht  together. 

Enter  Amintor  and  Ms  man. 
Arnintor.  Where  is  he  ? 
Ser.  There,  my  lord. 

Amin.  What  would  you,  sir  ? 

Asp.  Please  it  your  lordship  to  command  your 

man 

Out  of  the  roome,  I  shall  deliver  things 
Worthy  your  hearing. 

Amin.  Leave  us.       [Exit  Servant.'] 

Asp.  (aside).  Oh,  that  that  shape  35 

Should  bury  falsehood  in  it ! 

Amin.  Now  your  will,  sir. 

Asp.  When  you  know  me,  my  lord,  you  needs 

must  ghesse 

My  businesse ;  and  I  am  not  hard  to  know ; 
For,  till  the  chance  of  warre  markt  this  smooth 
face 

25  "women.     Q  1661,  woman. 


HI.]    qfyt  $$w*t8    rageu^  131 

With  these  few  blemishes,  people  would  call  me  40 
My  sisters  picture,  and  her  mine.    In  short, 
I  am  the  brother  to  the  wrong'd  Aspatia. 

Amin.  The   wrong'd    Aspatia !    would   thou 

wert  so  too 

Unto  the  wrong'd  Amintor !  Let  me  kisse 
That  hand  of  thine,  in  honour  that  I  beare          45 
Unto  the  wrong'd  Aspatia.    Here  I  stand 
That  did  it.  Would  he  could  not !  Gentle  youth, 
Leave  me ;  for  there  is  something  in  thy  lookes 
That  cals  my  sinnes  in  a  most  hideous  forme 
Into  my  mind  ;  and  I  have  griefe  enough  50 

Without  thy  helpe. 

Asp.  I  would  I  could  with  credit ! 

Since  I  was  twelve  yeeres  old,  I  had  not  scene 
My  sister  till  this  houre  I  now  arriv'd : 
She  sent  for  me  to  see  her  mariage ; 
A  wofull  one  !  but  they  that  are  above  55 

Have  ends  in  everything.    She  us'd  few  words, 
But  yet  enough  to  make  me  understand 
The  basenesse  of  the  injuries  you  did  her. 
That  little  trayning  I  have  had  is  warj 
I  may  behave  myselfe  rudely  in  peace;  60 

I  would  not,  though.    I  shall  not  need  to  tell 

you, 

I  am  but  young  and  would  be  loth  to  lose 
Honour,  that  is  not  easily  gain'd  againe. 

58  injuries.    Q6t  F,  D,  injurie. 


132          3Hje  spaces  tEragefci?       [ACTV. 

Fairely  I  meane  to  deale :  the  age  is  strict 
For  single  combats ;  and  we  shall  be  stopt, 
If  it  be  publisht.    If  you  like  your  sword, 
Use  it ;  if  mine  appeare  a  better  to  you, 
Change  ;  for  the  ground  is  this,  and  this  the  time, 
To  end  our  difference.  [Draws.] 

Amin.  Charitable  youth, 

If  thou  beest  such,  think  not  I  will  maintaine 
So  strange  a  wrong ;  and,  for  thy  sisters  sake, 
Knowe,  that  I  could  not  thinke  that  desperate 

thing 

I  durst  not  doe ;  yet,  to  injoy  this  world, 
I  would  not  see  her ;  for,  beholding  thee, 
I  am  I  know  not  what.  If  I  have  ought 
That  may  content  thee,  take  it  and  begone, 
For  death  is  not  so  terrible  as  thou ; 
Thine  eies  shoot  guilt  into  me. 

Asp.  Thus,  she  swore, 

Thou    wouldst    behave   thyselfe,  and  give  me 

words 

That  would  fetch  teares  into  my  eies;  and  so 
Thou  dost  indeed.    But  yet  she  bad  me  watch 
Lest  I  weare  cossen'd,  and  be  sure  to  fight 
Ere  I  return'd. 

Amin.  That  must  not  be  with  me. 

For  her  He  die  directly ;  but  against  her 
Will  never  hazard  it. 

80  my.    Q4-F,  D,  B,  mine. 


SCENE  III.]      Qfyt  ^3^00  1&tSL%tty  133 


Asp.  You  must  be  urg'd.  85 

I  doe  not  deale  uncivilly  with  those 
That  dare  to  fight  ;  but  such  a  one  as  you 
Must  be  usd  thus.  Sbee  strikes  him. 

Amin.  I  prethee,  youth,  take  heed. 

Thy  sister  is  a  thing  to  me  so  much 
Above  mine  honour  that  I  can  indure  90 

All  this  —  Good  gods  !  a  blow  I  can  indure  ; 
But  stay  not,  lest  thou  draw  a  timelesse  death 
Upon  thyselfe. 

Asp.  Thou  art  some  prating  fellow, 

One  that  hath  studied  out  a  tricke  to  talke 
And  move  soft  hearted  people  ;  to  be  kickt,          95 

She  kickes  him. 
Thus  to  be  kickt  !  —  (Aside.)  Why  should  he  be 

so  slow 
In  giving  me  my  death  ? 

Amin.  A  man  can  beare 

No  more,  and  keepe  his  flesh.   Forgive  me,  then  ! 
I  would  indure  yet,  if  I  could.    Now  shew 

\_Draws.~\ 

The  spirit  thou  pretendest,  and  understand         100 
Thou  hast  no  houre  to  live.  (They  fight.)    What 

dost  thou  meane  ? 

Thou  canst  not  fight  ;  the  blowes  thou  makst 
at  me 

101-105   What  .   .  .  defencelesst.    In  Qq  and    F,    lines    end 
with  fight  .   .    .   besides  .    .    .  armes   .   .   .   defencelesse. 


134          flflje  spaces  tErageln?       [ACTV. 

Are  quite  besides ;  and  those  I  offer  at  thee, 
Thou  spread's!  thine  armes  and  takst  upon  thy 

brest, 
Alas,  defencelesse ! 

Asp.  I  have  got  enough,  105 

And  my  desire.    There  is  no  place  so  fit 
For  me  to  die  as  here.  [Falls, .] 

Enter  Evadne,  her  bands  bloudy,  with  a  knife. 
Evadne.  Amintor,  I  am  loaden  with  events, 
That  flic  to  make  thee  happy ;  I  have  joyes, 
That  in  a  moment  can  call  backe  thy  wrongs     no 
And  settle  thee  in  thy  free  state  againe. 
It  is  Evadne  still  that  followes  thee, 
But  not  her  mischiefes. 

Amin.  Thou  canst  not  foole  me  to  beleeve 

agen; 

But  thou  hast  looks  and  things  so  full  of  newes"5 
That  I  am  staid. 

Evad.  Noble  Amintor,  put  off  thy  amaze, 
Let    thine    eies   loose  and   speake.    Am  I  not 

faire  ? 
Lookes   not  Evadne   beautious  with  these  rites 

now  ? 
Were    those    houres  halfe   so   lovely   in   thine 

eies  120 

When  our  hands  met  before  the  holy  man  ? 
I  was  too  foule  within  to  looke  faire  then ; 
Since  I  knew  ill,  I  was  not  free  till  now. 


SCENE  III.]        {B$e  ^tt*  Qft&gtlty  1 35 

Amin.  There  is  presage  of  some  important 

thing 

About  thee,  which,  it  seemes,  thy  tongue  hath  lost;  125 
Thy  hands  are  bloudy,  and  thou  hast  a  knife. 
Evad.  In   this  consists   thy   happinesse   and 

mine : 
Joy  to  Amintor !  for  the  King  is  dead. 

Amin.  Those  have  most  power   to   hurt  us, 

that  we  love ; 

We  lay  our  sleeping  lives  within  their  armes.      130 
Why,  thou  hast  raisd  up  mischiefe  to  his  height, 
And  found  one  to  out-name  thy  other  faults ; 
Thou  hast  no  intermission  of  thy  sinnes, 
But  all  thy  life  is  a  continued  ill ; 
Blacke  is  thy  colour  now,  disease  thy  nature.      135 
Joy  to  Amintor !   Thou  hast  toucht  a  life, 
The  very  name  of  which  had  power  to  chaine 
Up  all  my  rage,  and  calme  my  wildest  wrongs. 
Evad.  Tis  done;  and,  since  I  could  not  find 

a  way 

To  meet  thy  love  so  cleere  as  through  his  life,    140 
I  cannot  now  repent  it. 

Amin.  Couldst    thou    procure    the    gods    to 

speake  to  me, 

To  bid  me  love  this  woman  and  forgive, 
Ithinke  I  should  fall  out  with  them.    Behold, 
Here  lies  a  youth  whose  wounds  bleed  in  my 

brest,  145 


136          Qfyt  spaces  3frageDi?       [ACTV. 

Sent  by  a  violent  fate  to  fetch  his  death 

From  my  slow  hand  !  And,  to  augment  my  woe, 

You  now  are  present,  stain'd  with  a  kings  bloud 

Violently  shed.    This  keepes  night  here 

And  throwes  an  unknown  wildernesse  about  me.  150 

Asp.    Oh,  oh,  oh  ! 

Amin.  No  more;  pursue  me  not. 

Evad.  Forgive  me,  then, 

And  take  mee  to  thy  bed :  wee  may  not  part. 

[Kneels.] 

Amin.    Forbeare,  be  wise,  and  let  my  rage  goe 
this  way. 

Evad.  Tis  you  that  I  would  stay,  not  it. 

Amin.  Take  heed,  155 

It  will  returne  with  me. 

Evad.  If  it  must  be, 

I  shall  not  feare  to  meete  it.    Take  me  home. 

Amin.  Thou  monster  of  crueltie,  forbeare  ! 

Evad.  For  Heavens  sake,  looke  more  calme  ! 

thine  eies  are  sharper 
Then  thou  canst  make  thy  sword. 

Amin.  Away,  away  !  160 

Thy  knees  are  more  to  mee  than  violence ; 
I  am  worse  then  sicke  to  see  knees  follow  me 
For  that  I  must  not  grant.  For  Gods  sake,  stand  ! 

Evad.  Receive  me,  then. 

Amin.  I  dare  not  stay  thy  language; 

158  of  crueltie.    Th,  B,  of  all  cruelty. 


SCENE  III.]       {1)0  $$&£*&  gCD^  137 

In  midst  of  all  my  anger  and  my  griefe,  165 

Thou  doest  awake  something  that  troubles  me, 
And  saies,  I  lov'd  thee  once.    I  dare  not  stay ; 
There  is  no  end  of  womans  reasoning. 

Leaves  her. 
Evad.    [rising"].  Amintor,  thou  shalt  love  me 

now  againe ! 

Go ;  I  am  calme.  Farewell,  and  peace  for  ever  !  170 
Evadne,  whom  thou  hat'st,  will  die  for  thee  ! 

Kills  berselfe. 

Amin.  I  have  a  little  humane  nature  yet, 
Thats  left  for  thee,  that  bids  me  stay  thy  hand. 

Returnes. 
Evad.  Thy  hand  was  welcome,  but  it  came 

too  late. 
Oh,  I  am  lost !  the  heavie  sleepe  makes  haste.  175 

She  dies. 

Asp.  Oh,  oh,  oh  ! 
Amin.  This  earth  of  mine  doth  tremble,  and 

I  feele 

A  stark  affrighted  motion  in  my  bloud ; 
My  soul  growes  wearie  of  her  house,  and  I 
All  over  am  a  trouble  to  myselfe.  180 

There  is  some  hidden  power  in  these  dead  things 
That  calls  my  flesh  unto  'em  ;  I  am  cold  : 
Be  resolute  and  beare  em  company. 
Theres  something  yet  which  I  am  loth  to  leave : 

182  jiesh.    Qi,  selfe.    unto,  Qi,  Q$.    Qz,  into. 


138          tEtye  spap&ea  ^rageD^        [ACTV. 


Theres  man  enough  in  me  to  meet  the  feares     185 
That  death  can  bring;  and  yet  would  it  were 

done  ! 

I  can  finde  nothing  in  the  whole  discourse 
Of  death,  I  durst  not  meet  the  bouldest  way  ; 
Yet  still,  betwixt  the  reason  and  the  act, 
The  wrong  I  to  Aspatia  did  stands  up  ;  190 

I  have  not  such  another  fault  to  answerer 
Though  she  may  justly  arme  herselfe  with  scorne 
And  hate  of  me,  my  soule  will  part  lesse  troubled, 
When  I  have  paid  to  her  in  teares  my  sorrow  : 
I  will  not  leave  this  act  unsatisfied,  195 

If  all  thats  left  in  me  can  answer  it. 

Asp.  Was  it  a  dreame  ?  there  stands  Amintor 

still  ; 
Or  I  dreame  still. 

Amin.  How  doest  thou  ?  speake  ;  receive  my 

love  &  helpe. 

Thy  bloud  climbes  up  to  his  old  place  againe  ;  200 
Theres  hope  of  thy  recoverie. 

Asp.  Did  you  not  name  Aspatia  ? 

Amin.  I  did. 

Asp.  And  talkt  of  teares  and  sorrow  unto  her  ? 

Amin.  Tis  true  ;  and  till  these  happie  signes 

in  thee 
Did  stay  my  course,  it  was  thither  I  was  going.  205 

Asp.  Thou  art  there  already,  and  these  wounds 
are  hers  : 

205  Did  stay,  £3.    Qi,  Q2,  staid. 


SCENE  III.]       f&ty  tytybtS  &*&%&?  139 

Those  threats  I  brought  with  me  sought  not 

revenge, 

But  came  to  fetch  this  blessing  from  thy  hand : 
I  am  Aspatia  yet. 

Amin.  Dare  my  soule  ever  looke  abroad  agen  ?  210 
Asp.   I  shall  sure  live,  Amintor  ;  I  am  well ; 
A  kinde  of  healthfull  joy  wanders  within  me. 
Amin.  The  world  wants  lives  to  excuse  thy 

losse ; 

Come,  let  me  bare  thee  to  some  place  of  helpe. 
Asp.  Amintor,  thou  must  stay  ;  I  must  rest 

here ;  215 

My  strength  begins  to  disobey  my  will. 
How  dost  thou,  my  best  soule  ?    I  would  faine 

live 
Now,  if  I  could.    Wouldst  thou  have  loved  me, 

then  ? 

Amin.  Alas, 

All  that  I  am's  not  worth  a  haire  from  thee  !      220 
Asp.  Give  me  thine  hand  ;  mine  hands  grope 

up  &  down, 

And  cannot  finde  thee ;  I  am  wondrous  sicke  : 
Have  I  thy  hand,  Amintor  ? 

Amin.  Thou  greatest  blessing  of  the  world, 

thou  hast. 

Asp.  I  doe  beleeve  thee  better  then  my  sense.  225 
Oh,  I  must  goe  !  farewell !  Dies. 

213  lives.  Qq,  F,  lines,    to  excuse.    Th,  B,  to  expiate. 
220  am's,  Q4-F.    Qi-Q3,  ams. 


140          3tye  spaces  trageap       [ACT  v. 

Amin.  She  sounds. — Aspatia!  —  Helpe!  for 

Gods  sake,  water, 

Such  as  may  chaine  life  ever  to  this  frame !  — 
Aspatia,  speake !  — What,  no  helpe  yet  ?  I  foole ! 
He    chafe    her   temples.     Yet    theres    nothing 

stirs :  130 

Some  hidden  power  tell  her,  Amintor  cals, 
And  let  her  answere  me!  —  Aspatia,  speake  !  — 
I  have  heard,  if  there  be  any  life,  but  bow 
The  body  thus,  and  it  will  shew  itselfe. 
Oh,  she  is  gone  !  I  will  not  leave  her  yet.  .        235 
Since  out  of  justice  we  must  challenge  nothing, 
lie  call  it  mercy,  if  youle  pitty  me, 
You   heavenly  powers,  and  lend  for  some  few 

yeeres 

The  blessed  soule  to  this  faire  seat  againe ! 
No  comfort  comes ;  the  gods  denie  me  too  !       240 
He  bow  the  body  once  againe  —  Aspatia  !  — 
The  soule  is  fled  forever,  and  I  wrong 
Myselfe  so  long  to  loose  her  company. 
Must  I  talke  now  ?    Heres  to  be  with  thee,  love ! 

Kils  himselfe. 
Enter  Servant. 

Servant.  This  is  a  great  grace  to  my  lord,  10245 
have  the  new  King  come  to  him ;  I  must  tell 
him  he  is  entring.  —  Oh,  God !  —  Helpe,  helpe  ! 

227  sounds.    F,  swounds. 

230  theresy  Q4-F.    Qi~3,  there. 


in.]    {Etye  $i9ai?De$  tETrageD^  141 

Enter  Lisip[fus],  Melant[itis~\,  Cal\ianax\>    Clean , 
Dipb[tlus,  and]  Strata. 

Lysippus.  Wheres  Amintor  ? 

&r<z/0.  Oh,  there,  there  ! 

Lys.  How  strange  is  this  ! 

Calianax.  What  should  we  doe  here  ? 

Melantius.  These  deaths  are  such  acquainted 

things  with  me  250 

That  yet  my  heart  dissolves  not.    May  I  stand 
Stiffe  here  for  ever !  —  Eies,  call  up  your  teares  ! 
This  is  Amintor.    Heart,  he  was  my  friend ; 
Melt !  now  it  flowes.  —  Amintor,  give  a  word 
To  call  me  to  thee.  »SS 

Amin.   Oh  ! 

Mel.  Melantius  cals  his  friend  Amintor.    Oh, 
Thy  armes  are  kinder  to  me  then  thy  tongue ! 
Speake,  speake ! 

Amin.  What  ?  160 

Mel.  That   little  word  was   worth    all    the 

sounds 
That  ever  I  shall  heare  againe. 

Diph.  Oh,  brother, 

Here  lies  your  sister  slaine  !   You  lose  yourselfe 
In  sorrow  there. 

Mel.  Why,  Dip[hilus],  it  is 

A  thing  to  laugh  at  in  respect  to  this :  265 

Here  was  my  sister,  father,  brother,  sonne, 

448  Strata.    Edd.  1778  changed  to  Serv.t  so  D. 


142          tEftie  f)a$)e0  trageDp       [ACT  v. 

All  that  I  had.  —  Speake  once    againe;  what 

youth 
Lies  slaine  there  by  thee  ? 

Amin.  Tis  Aspatia. 

My  last  is  said.    Let  me  give  up  my  soule 
Into  thy  bosome.  \_Dies.~\*io 

Cal.  Whats  that  ?  whats  that  ?  Aspatia  ? 

Mel.  I  never  did 

Repent  the  greatnesse  of  my  heart  till  now ; 
It  will  not  burst  at  need. 

Cal.  My  daughter  dead  here  too !    And  you 
have  all  fine  new  trickes  to  grieve,  but  I  nere*7S 
knew  any  but  direct  crying. 

Mel.  I  am  a  pratler :  but,  no  more ! 

[Offers  to  stab  himself '.] 

Diph.  Hold,  brother ! 

Lis.  Stop  him. 

Diph.  Fie,  how  unmanly  was  this    offer  in 

you  ! 
Does  this  become  our  straine  ?  280 

Cal.  I  know  not  what  the  matter  is,  but  I 
am  growne  very  kinde,  and  am  friends  with  you 
[all  now] .  You  have  given  me  that  among  you 
will  kill  me  quickly  ;  but  He  go  home  and  live 
as  long  as  I  can.  \_Exit. ~\  ^85 

Mel.  His  spirit  is  but  poore  that  can  be  kept 

269  My  last  is  said.    £3,  My  senses  fade. 
283  all  now.    Only  in  Qi. 


.]     31;^  ^apDes  (EfrageDi?          143 

From  death  for  want  of  weapons. 

Is  not  my  hands  a  weapon  sharpe  enough 

To  stop  my  breath  ?  or,  if  you  tie  downe  those, 

I  vow,  Amintor,  I  will  never  eat,  290 

Or  drinke,  or  sleepe,  or  have  to  doe  with  that 

That    may    preserve   life !    This    I    sweare  to 

keepe. 
Lys.  Look  to  him,  though,  and  beare  those 

bodies  in. 

May  this  a  faire  example  be  to  me, 
To  rule  with  temper,  for  on  lustfull  kings  295 

Unlookt-for  sudden  deaths  from  God  are  sent, 
But  curst  is  he  that  is  their  instrument. 

[Exeunt.] 

288  hands.     Q6,   F,  hand,    tbarpe,    Qi  -  Q$.     Q4  -  F,    D 
B,  good. 


FINIS. 


to 

For  the  meaning  of  single  "words  see  the  Glossary. 

DATE.  This  play,  licensed,  April  4,  1619,  to  R.  Higginbotham 
and  F.  Constable,  was  evidently  written  before  October  31,  1611, 
on  which  day  a  play  was  licensed  by  Sir  George  Buc,  and  endorsed, 
"  This  second  maiden's  tragedy."  It  was  first  printed  in  1619,  for 
F.  Constable.  For  other  editions  see  Bibliography.  There  is  no 
certain  early  limit,  but  1 609  is  a  reasonable  conjecture  for  the  date 
of  the  first  production. 

STAGE  HISTORY.  The  play  was  first  acted  at  either  the  Globe 
or  the  Blackfriars  theatre  by  the  King's  men,  and  probably  while 
Shakespeare  was  still  an  active  member  of  that  company.  Burbadge 
played  Melantius,  and  the  play  was  popular  until  the  closing  of  the 
theatres.  A  droll,  the  Testy  Lord,  based  on  the  scenes  dealing  with 
Calianax,  was  played  at  the  Red  Bull  during  the  suppression  of  the 
theatres,  and  the  play  was  revived  on  Nov.  17,  1660.  Pepys  saw 
it  in  the  following  year,  and  it  was  popular  during  the  Restoration, 
as  is  evinced  by  Dryden's  criticisms  and  Rymer's  attack  in  his  Trage- 
dies of  the  Last  Age  Considered.  An  alteration  of  the  play,  or  rather 
a  new  fifth  act,  without  the  murder  of  the  king,  was  written  by 
Waller,  and  two  versions  were  printed  ;  but  it  does  not  appear 
that  either  of  these  versions  for  any  long  time  supplanted  the  orig- 
inal play  on  the  stage.  In  1703  it  was  revived  at  Drury  Lane, 
where  it  had  not  been  acted  for  twelve  years;  in  1706,  at  the 
Haymarket,  Evadne  was  played  by  Mrs.  Barry,  Aspatia  by  Mrs. 
Bracegirdle,  and  Melantius  by  Betterton  ;  and  Melantius  was  the 
kst  part  acted  by  Betterton  three  days  before  his  death  in  1610. 
The  play  appeared  occasionally  until  the  middle  of  the  century  ; 
then  it  seems  to  have  been  laid  aside  until  1837,  when,  with  alter- 
ations by  Macready  and  three  new  scenes  by  Sheridan  Knowles,  it 
was  revived  as  the  Bridal. 

7,  73.   That  beares  the  light  above  her.     Weber 


to  ®&e  gan's?  {rage&E     145 

adopted  about  of  Qz  and  understood  light  to  stand  for  lightning. 
Dyce  took  her  to  refer  to  Aspatia  and  understood  the  passage  to 
mean,  has  greater  distinction  than  Aspatia.  Daniel  (B)  suggested 
"  blears  "  for  hearts,  —  "  Evadne  makes  dim  the  very  light  of 
heaven  that  is  above  her,  by  her  superior  brilliancy."  Dycc's  inter- 
pretation seems  the  most  satisfactory.  A  similar  uncertainty  of  the 
quartos  between  above  and  about  is  found  in  1.  138. 

8,   100.    in  course.    In  turn.    See  n,  i,  106. 

II.  Scene  II.  Compare  Henry  Fill,  v,  4,  and  the  Induc- 
tion to  Four  Plays  in  One,  for  similar  scenes. 

1 1,  4.    well  said.    Here,  as  frequently,  equivalent  to  ' '  well 
done." 

12,  21.    Office  !    "  The  syllable  ^"reminds  the  testy  states- 
man of  his  robe,  and  he  carries  on  the  image. ' '    Coleridge,  cited 
by  D  and  B. 

*3>  5Z-   breake  a  dozen  wiser  heads  than  his  own, 

etc.  At  Shirley's  masque,  the  Triumph  of  Peace,  at  court,  in 
1633,  Lord  Pembroke  broke  his  staff  over  the  shoulders  of  Thomas 
May,  the  poet.  Osborne  in  his  Traditional  Memoirs  relates  the 
story,  observing  in  the  very  words  of  the  text  that  Pembroke  "  did 
not  refraine,  whilst  he  was  chamberlaine,  to  break  many  wiser 
heads  than  his  owne."  This  coincidence  was  noted  by  Weber  ; 
and  Dyce,  quoting  Weber's  note,  which  he  queries  as  by  Sir  Walter 
Scott,  added  that  in  a  copy  of  the  quarto  of  1638  in  his  possession, 
"  Pembroke  "  was  written  in  the  margin  opposite  this  passage. 

*7i  X39-  This  beautie.  The  beauty  of  the  court,  disclosed 
by  the  entrance  of  Cynthia,  is  referred  to.  The  mists,  mentioned 
in  the  stage-direction,  doubtless  disappeared. 

20,  196-198.    These  .  .  .  things.    Daniel  (B)  believes  Qz 
a  bungling  attempt  to  correct  the  certainly  corrupt  Qi,  and  pro- 
poses to  read  : 

These  are  our  music :  next,  thy  watery  race 
Led  on  in  couples,  we  are  pleased  to  grace 
This  noble  night ; 
Bid  them  draw  near,  each  in  their  richest  things. 

Dyce  suggested  "Lead"  for  Bring  in  1.  197. 

21,  214.    Blew  Proteus.    Blue,  because  a  sea-deity. 

22,  252.    if  not  her  measure.    Theobald  omitted ;  Seward 


146     jiotea  to 


altered  to  "If  not  o'er  measure"  ;  Dyce  retained  the  reading  of 
Qz,  and  explained,  "  though  perhaps  what  I  bring  may  not  com- 
pletely fill  up  her  [this  hour]  measure."  Fleay  (CAron.  Eng. 
Drama,  I,  193)  suggested  that  the  words  are  merely  the  misprint  of 
a  stage-direction,  —  "  Another  measure."  His  suggestion  is  doubt- 
less correct  and  is  adopted  by  Daniel  (B).  In  Qi  there  are  but  two 
songs  and  two  dances  ;  Qa  provides  three  songs  and  three  accom- 
panying dances. 

24,  292.  yon  same  flashing  streame.  This  is  the  ef- 
fulgence of  the  court,  shot  from  the  south.  A  greater  light,  a  greater 
majesty,  than  that  of  the  daybreak  in  the  east. 

27,  22.    take  it.    Contradistinctive  to  leave  it,  of  I.  18;  it 
refers  to  trick  in  1.  17. 

28,  30.    Plucke  downe  a  side.    To  set  up  a  side  meant,  to 
be  partners  in  a  game  ;  to  pluck  down  a  side,  to  cause  the  loss  of  a 
game. 

28,  38.   But  I  could  run  my  countrey.   But  I  could 

(B,  qy.,  would)  drive  my  country  at  a  hot  pace. 

29,  56.    lost.    Left  of  Q5-F  has  the  same  meaning  as  lost  ; 
the  two  were  used  interchangeably.    See  1.  347. 

43,  341.  that  my  flesh  could  beare  with  patience. 
Dyce  notes  :  "  If  the  text  be  right  [that]  must  refer  to 

Nor  let  the  king 
Know  I  conceive  he  wrongs  me";      [11.  339,  340.] 

—  that  concealment   would  enable   me  to  bear  my  injury  with 
patience.  '  ' 

48,  67.   the  wilde  iland.   Naxos. 

49,  78.   A  miserable  life  of  this  poore  picture  ! 

A  living  representation  of  the  pitiful  scene  depicted  in  this  needle- 
work. 

64,   264.    that  little  credit.  The  force  of  that  is  intensive, 

—  such  little  credit. 

79,  260.  Enter  Melantius  agen.  Daniel  (B)  notes, 
"  Perhaps  a  new  scene  should  be  marked  here."  No  change  of 
place  is  intended  ;  and  only  a  very  brief  interval  of  time  can  be 
supposed  to  have  intervened  between  the  exit  and  the  reentry  of 
Melantius. 


to 

79,  266.  as  sent.  "As  if  you  were  sent  on  purpose." 
Mason. 

83,  2.    you  looke,  Evadne.    Dyce  remarks  that  modern 
editors  (punctuating  as  in    the  text)  strangely  misunderstand  the 
line  ;  but  his  interpretation  —  you  look  or  seem  to  be  Evadne  — 
can  be  justified  only  if  Evadne  is  supposed  to  misunderstand  her  bro- 
ther, and  even  then  is  not  supported  by  Melantius'  succeeding  lines. 
The  punctuation  of  Theobald,  retained  in  the  text,  requires  less  re- 
finement in  interpretation. 

84,  ii.    Millan    skins.    "Fine    gloves    manufactured    at 
Milan."    Nares. 

85,  32.    fill.    "  As  a  sheet  of  paper  isjiird  or  covered  with 
writing."   Daniel  (B). 

86,  55.   where  the  Dog  raignes.   The  dog  star,  Sirius, 
which  gave  the  name  to  the  dog-days,  and  was  associated  with  the 
hottest  and  most  unhealthful  weather. 

95,  228.    Lerna.  The  name  of  a  marsh  and  a  lake  in  Ar- 
golis,  famous  in  Greek  mythology  as  the  abode  of  the  Lernean 
Hydra,  slain  by  Hercules  in   the  accomplishment  of  one   of  his 
twelve  labors. 

96,  239.  if  thou  plai'st  with  thy  repentance,  the 

best  sacrifice.  If  thou  mak'st  thy  repentance,  the  most  ac- 
ceptable sacrifice  you  can  offer,  merely  a  mockery  and  sport. 

IOO,   39.    Quit  'em.    Abandon  them,  forsake  them. 

1 13,  286.  astronomers.  "  When  astrologer  and  astronomer 
began  to  be  differentiated,  the  relation  between  them  was,  at  first, 
the  converse  of  the  present  usage."  N.  E.  D. 

116.  King  abed.   The  stage-directions  indicate  the  business 
on  the  Elizabethan  stage.    At  the  rear  of  the  stage  was  a  bed  with 
closed  curtains  ;  or  the  bed  was  placed  in  the  inner  stage  and  cur- 
tains concealed  it  from  the  front.    Evadne  remained  on  the  stage 
from  the  opening  of  the  scene  to  line  1 1 1 ;  and  there  was  nothing  to 
indicate  the  change  of  scene  at  line  1 1 ,  marked  by  Theobald  and 
other  modern  editors. 

117,  19.  that  desperate  fooles.    The  reference  has  not 
been  identified. 

121,  86.  Those  blessed  fires  that  shot.    Meteors. 
126,  33.  When  time  was.  From  the  beginning. 
129,   12.   but,  to  haste.   But,  to  make  haste. 


148     $ote$  to 


But  in  particular,  I  have  in  charge, 
9»     ^~   ''   About  no  waightie  matters. 
I  have  in  charge  that  he  will  speake  with  nobody,  especially  if 
they  wish  to  speake  on  weighty  matters. 

135,  142-43.  Couldst  thou  .  .  .  this  woman.  Dan- 
iel's suggestion  of  "  thee,  woman,"  avoids  the  confusion  of  the 
change  from  the  personal  to  the  demonstrative  pronoun.  The 
change,  however,  seems  natural  to  Amintor's  passion. 


TEXT 

The  first  quarto,  published  in  1620,  some  twelve  years  after  the 
play  was  first  acted,  presents  an  evidently  corrupt  and  unauthorized 
text,  differing  utterly  at  the  beginning  and  the  end  from  the  other 
quartos,  and  in  the  remaining  portion  of  the  play  apparently  based 
on  a  copy  made  by  some  scribe  in  the  audience.  The  passages  at 
the  beginning  and  the  end  were  in  the  opinion  of  Dyce,  supplied 
"by  some  hireling  writer,"  and  they  certainly  cannot  have  been 
the  work  of  Beaumont  or  Fletcher.  They  may  possibly  have  been 
alterations  made  for  some  theatrical  performance,  but  their  contents 
offer  no  support  for  Fleay's  conjecture  ( Chron.  Eng.  Drama,  I, 
189)  that  they  were  made  for  the  presentation  at  court,  1612— 
13.  The  main  body  of  the  text,  though  presenting  many  readings 
due  to  the  inaccurate  hearing  of  the  scribe  and  though  carelessly 
printed  with  little  regard  to  the  division  of  verse-lines,  often  sup- 
plies corrections  for  the  corruptions  of  later  quartos.  Walkeley,  the 
publisher  of  Qi,  brought  out  the  second  quarto  in  1622,  to  which 
he  prefixed  an  Address  to  the  Reader,  disclaiming  for  himself  or  the 
printer  any  blame  for  the  errors  of  Qi  and  promising  their  reforma- 
tion. By  whom  he  was  supplied  with  a  corrected  text  cannot  be 
known.  Beaumont  had  been  dead  six  years ;  and  though  Fletcher 
was  still  alive,  there  is  nothing  to  indicate  that  he  supplied  or  revised 
the  text.  Walkeley  had  printed  an  anonymous  edition  of  Thierry 
and  Theodore!  in  1621,  and  the  first  quarto  of  A  King  and  No 
King  with  the  authors'  names  in  1619;  the  manuscript  for  the 
latter  he  had  obtained  from  Sir  Henry  Nevill,  and  he  had  now  secured 
from  some  source  a  good  copy  of  Philaster. 

Q2  is  our  chief  authority  for  the  text.  Q3,  1630,  follows  it  in 
the  main,  but  Q4,  1634,  presents  many  changes  especially  in  the 
oaths,  and  these  changes  have  been  generally  preserved  in  subsequent 
quartos,  the  Folio  of  1679,  an^  ty  modern  editors  up  to  Dyce,  and 
even  he  often  retains  the  modified  oaths.  The  later  quartos  repeat 
the  text  of  {34*34;  Q5a  has  many  errors  of  its  own;  and  F, 
printed  from  Q6,  reproduces  the  accumulated  errors,  though  it  adds 
a  few  corrections  that  are  improvements. 


150 

The  present  edition  is  based  on  Qa,  its  spelling  is  retained,  and 
all  departures  from  its  letter  are  noted.  Readings  from  other  quartos 
have  occasionally  been  adopted.  In  view  of  the  peculiar  relation  of 
Qi  to  Qz,  and  the  fact  that  the  full  variants  for  Qi  have  never 
been  printed  except  in  the  recent  Bullen  Variorum  edition,  and  there 
not  with  entire  accuracy,  it  has  been  thought  best  to  include  full 
variants  of  Qi,  even  when  of  the  slightest  significance.  Similarly, 
full  variants  of  the  later  Qq  and  F  are  given.  Variants  of  modern 
editors  are  given  only  when  of  importance  to  the  text ;  but  all  de- 
viations of  Dyce  or  Daniel  (B)  from  the  present  text  are  specifically 
noted.  The  arrangement  of  verse-lines  in  Qz  is  followed  in  the 
main  ;  that  of  Dyce  is  sometimes  preferred,  when  the  reading  of 
Qz  is  given  in  the  notes.  Variations  in  the  verse-lines  of  Qi  are 
not  in  general  given.  In  all  other  respects  except  those  just  noted, 
the  text  follows  the  methods  specified  in  the  textual  note  to  the 
Maid's  Tragedy. 

Professor  J.  W.  Cunliffe  transcribed  the  text  of  Qz  from  the 
copy  in  the  Bodleian  Library,  and  collated  it  with  Q%.  Professor 
G.  P.  Baker  collated  the  text  with  the  Locker-Lampson  copy  of 
Qi  now  in  the  library  of  Mr.  Robert  Hoe,  of  New  York.  The 
authorities  of  the  Cambridge  University  Press,  through  the  kind 
intervention  of  the  Master  of  Peterhouse  and  Mr.  A.  R.  Waller, 
supplied  the  advance  sheets  of  the  edition  of  Philaster  which  Mr. 
Waller  is  editing  for  their  ' '  Cambridge  English  Classics. ' '  These 
sheets  furnished  a  basis  for  the  collation  of  the  Qq  and  F,  and 
a  comparison  of  their  variants  with  those  of  Leonhardt  and  Daniel 
(B).  For  the  great  kindness  and  important  services  of  these  gen- 
tlemen, the  editor  would  offer  his  grateful  acknowledgements. 


PHILASTER. 


Loue  lies  a  Bleeding. 

ids  it  bath  beene  diuerfe  times  Med^ 

at  the  Globe,  and  Blacke-Fricrs,  by 
•Jain  Mriejlies  Servants* 


Written  by?          and  >G(nt. 

f  lohn  Fletcher*       j 


The  fccond  Imprcflion,  corrected,  and 
amended. 


Frihtcd  for  THOMAS  WAIKLEV,  and  are  to 
be  folde  at  his  fhoppe,  at  the  figneof  the 
Eagle  and  Childe  ,in  Brtttaincs  Burflc* 
1623* 


SOURCES 

The  plot  seems  to  have  been  the  invention  of  the  authors.  Stories 
of  a  devoted  heroine  who  disguises  herself  as  a  page  were  common 
in  contemporary  fiction  and  drama,  and  the  similarity  of  the  story 
of  Euphrasia  to  that  of  Viola  in  Twelfth  Night  and  to  the  tale  of 
Felismena  and  Don  Felix  in  the  Diana  of  Montemayor  has  been 
frequently  noted.  The  situation  of  Philaster  as  a  son  revenging 
a  father  is  also  found  not  only  in  Hamlet  but  in  various  other  Eliza- 
bethan plays.  More  notable  are  the  resemblances  between  Philaster 
and  Cymbeline  ;  but  in  the  opinion  of  the  present  editor,  Shakspere 
was  in  this  case  the  borrower.  A  number  of  the  situations  and  types 
of  character  employed  in  Philaster  reappear  in  other  plays  by  Beau- 
mont and  Fletcher,  especially  Cufid's  Revenge  and  the  Maid's 
Tragedy. 


TO  THE  READER. 

Courteous  Reader.  Philaster,  and  Arethusa  his  love, 
have  laine  so  long  a  bleeding,  by  reason  of  some  danger- 
ous and  gaping  wounds  which  they  received  in  the  first 
impression,  that  it  is  wondered  how  they  could  goe  abroad 
so  long,  or  travaile  so  farre  as  they  have  done.  Although 
they  were  hurt  neither  by  me,  nor  the  printer  ;  yet  I 
knowing  and  finding  by  experience  how  many  well- 
wishers  they  have  abroad,  have  adventured  to  bind  up 
their  wounds  &  to  enable  them  to  visite  upon  better 
tearmes  such  friends  of  theirs  as  were  pleased  to  take 
knowledge  of  them  so  mained  and  deformed  as  they  at 
the  first  were  ;  and  if  they  were  then  gracious  in  your 
sight,  assuredly  they  will  now  finde  double  favour,  being 
reformed,  and  set  forth  suteable  to  their  birth  and 
breeding. 

By  your  serviceable 

Friend, 
Thomas  Walkley. 

To  the  Reader,  etc.    Only  in  Q2.  mained.   i.  e.,  maimed. 


[THE   STATIONER 

TO 

THE    UNDERSTANDING 
GENTRIE 

This  play  so  affectionatly  taken  and  approoved  by  the 
seeing  auditors  or  hearing  spectators,  (of  which  sort  I 
take  or  conceive  you  to  bee  the  greatest  part)  hath  received 
(as  appeares  by  the  copious  vent  of  two  editions)  no  lesse 
acceptance  with  improovement  of  you  likewise  the  readers, 
albeit  the  first  impression  swarm' d  with  errors,  proov- 
ing  it  selfe  like  pure  gold,  which  the  more  it  hath  beene 
tried  and  refined,  the  better  is  esteemed  ;  the  best  poems 
of  this  kind,  in  the  first  presentation,  resemble  that  all 
tempting  minerall  newly  digged  up,  the  actors  being 
onely  the  labouring  miners,  but  you  the  skilfull  triers  and 
refiners:  now  considering  how  currant  this  hath  passed, 
under  the  infallible  stampe  of  your  judicious  censure  and 
applause,  and  (like  a  gainefull  office  in  this  age)  eagerly 
sought  for,  not  onely  by  those  that  have  heard  &  scene 
it,  but  by  others  that  have  meerely  heard  thereof;  here  you 
behold  me  acting  the  merchant-adventurers  part,  yet  as 
well  for  their  satisfaction  as  mine  owne  benefit,  and  if 
my  hopes  (which  I  hope  shall  never  lye  like  this  LOVE 
A  BLEEDING)  doe  fairely  arrive  at  their  intended  haven,  I 
shall  then  be  ready  to  lade  a  new  bottome,  and  set  foorth 
againe,  to  gaine  the  good-will  both  of  you  and  them. 
To  whom  respectively  I  convey  this  hearty  greeting: 
ADIEU.] 

The  Stationer,  etc.,  Qj,  and  with  variations  of  spelling,  04-06. 


[The  Scene  being  in  Cicilie. 
The  Persons  Represented  in  the  Play  are  these,  viz: 


The  KING. 

PHILASTER,  Heire  to  the  Crowne. 
PHARAMOND,  Prince  of  Spaine. 
DION,  a  Lord. 

CLEREMONT,   I  Noble  Gentlemen, 
THRASALINE,  )  his  Associates. 
ARETHUSA,  the  Kings  Daughter. 
GALLATEA,  a  wise  Modest  Lady  at- 
tending the  Princesse. 
MEGRA,  a  Lascivious  Lady. 
An  old  Wanton  Lady,  or  Croane. 


Another  Lady  attending  the  Prin- 
cesse. 

EUFRASIA,  Daughter  of  Dion,  but 
disguised  like  a  Page,  and  called 
Bellario. 

An  old  Captaine. 

Five  Citizens. 

A  countrey  fellow. 

Two  woodmen. 

The  Kings  Guard  and  Traine.) 


Tht  Scene, etc. ,Qj;  and  with  variations  of  spelling,  Galatea,  Thrasiline,Q4-F. 
Qz  omits.     Ql  substitutes  : 

THB  ACTORS  NAMES. 

King  of  Cecely. 

Arathusa,  the  Princesse. 

Phylaster. 

Pharamont,  a  Spanish  Prince. 

Leon,  a  Lord. 

TrasilTn"'  }  Two  Noble  Gentlemen- 

Bellario  a  Page,  Leon's  daughter. 

Callatea,  a  Lady  of  Honor. 

Megra,  another  Lady. 

A  Waiting  Gentlewoman. 

Two  Woodmen. 

A  Countrey  Gallant. 

An  Old  Captaine. 

And  Souldiers. 

A  Messenger. 

Ql  has  Leon,  or  Lynn,  throughout  the  play  in  place  of  Dion  of  later  eds. ; 
and  in  stage-directions  or  prefixes  to  speeches,  Prin.  or  Princeitefoj  Arethusa 
throughout,  and  Soy  for  Bellario  until  the  last  scene.  Gleremtn  and  Callatea 
are  misprints  not  found  elsewhere. 


Blaster 


ACTUS  I.     SCENA  I. 
[The  Presence  Chamber  in  the  Palace.] 
Enter  Dion,  Cleremont,  and  Tbrasiline. 

Cleremont.   Here's  nor  lords  nor  ladyes. 

Dion.  Credit  me,  gentlemen,  I  wonder  at  it. 
They  receiv'd  strickt  charge  from  the  King  to 
atend  here  :  besides,  it  was  boldly  published  that 
no  officer  should  forbid  any  gentleman  that 
desired  to  attend  and  hear. 

Cle.  Can  you  ghesse  the  cause  ?  »  » 

Dion.  Sir,  it  is  plaine,  about  the  Spanish  prince 
that's  come  to  marry  our  kingdomes  heir,  and 
be  our  soveraigne. 

Tbrasiline.  Many,  that  will  seeme  to  know 

Actui  I.  For  the  text  of  Qi  from  the  beginning  of  the  play 
through  1.  121,  see  Notes,  p.  318.  Variants  from  Qi  are  not  given 
until  after  1.  121. 

The  Presence  Chamber,  etc.  The  names  of  localities  and  the  divi- 
sions of  scenes  (after  Act  I,  Sc.  i)  are  from  D,  unless  otherwise 
noted. 

Tbrasiline.  Qz  spells  Trasiline  or  Trasilin,  and  abbreviates  Tra. 
throughout  the  play. 

I   nor  lords.    Q5~F,  not  lords. 
6  desired.    Q4--F,  desire. 


158  Blaster  [ACTI. 

much,  say  she  lookes  not  on  him  like  a  maide 
in  love. 

Dion.  Faith,  sir,  the  multitude  (that  seldome 
know  any  thing  but  their  owne  opinions)  speake  15 
that  they  would  have.  But  the  prince,  before 
his  own  approach,  receiv'd  so  many  confident 
messages  from  the  state,  that  I  thinke  shee's 
resolv'd  to  be  rul'd. 

Cle.  Sir,  it  is  thought,  with  her  hee  shall  en-  20 
joy  both  these  kingdomes  of  Cicilie  and  Cala- 
bria. 

Dion.  Sir,  it  is,  without  controversie,  so  meant. 
But  'twill  bee  a  troublesome  labour  for  him  to 
enjoy  both  these  kingdomes  with  safety,  the  right  25 
heire  to  one  of  them  living,  and  living  so  vertu- 
ously ;  especially,  the  people  admiring  the  bravery 
of  his  minde  and  lamenting  his  injuries. 

Cle.  Who,  Philaster  ? 

Dion.  Yes ;  whose  father,  we  all  know,  was  30 
by  our  late  king  of  Calabria  unrighteously  de- 
posed from  his  fruitful  Cicilie.    My  selfe  drew 
some  blood  in  those  warres,  which  I  would  give 
my  hand  to  be  washed  from. 

Cle.  Sir,  my  ignorance  in  state-policie  will  not  35 
let  mee  know  why,  Philaster  being  heire  to  one 
of  these  kingdomes,  the  King  should  suffer  him 
to  walke  abroad  with  such  free  liberty. 

14  Faith.    24-F,  O- 


159 

Dion.  Sir,  it  seemes  your  nature  is  more  con- 
stant then  to  enquire  after  state  newes.    But  the  40 
King,  of  late,  made  a  hazard  of  both  the  king- 
domes,  of  Cicilie  and  his  owne,  with  offering 
but  to  imprison   Philaster.    At  which  the  city 
was  in  armes,  not  to  bee  charm'd  downe  by  any 
state-order  or  proclamation,  till  they  saw  Philas-  45 
ter  ride  through  the  streetes  pleasde  and  without 
a  guard  ;  at  which  they  threw  their  hats  and 
their  armes  from  them ;  some  to  make  bonfires, 
some  to  drinke,  all  for  his  deliverance.    Which, 
wise  men  say,  is  the  cause  the  King  labors  to  5° 
bring  in  the  power  of  a  forraigne  nation  to  awe 
his  owne  with. 

Enter  Galatea,  a  Lady,  and  Megra. 

Tbra.  See,  the  ladyes  !    What's  the  first  ? 
Dion.  A  wise  and  modest  gentlewoman  that 
attends  the  princesse.  55 

Cle.  The  second  ? 

46-47  pleasde  .  ,  .  threw.  D,  released  .  .  .  threw.  Mit- 
ford,  conj.,  without  a  guard  ;  and  pleased  at  which  they  threw. 

Enter  Galatea,  a  Lady,  and  Megra.  Qq  and  F  read,  "  Enter 
Galatea  (Q2,  Gallatea)  Megra  and  a  Lady  "  ;  and  in  the  dialogue 
preceding  the  entrance  of  the  King,  they  assign  to  "  La "  the 
speeches  now  given  to  "  Meg,"  and  to  "  Meg"  those  now  given 
to  ' '  La.  * '  The  transpositions  were  first  suggested  by  Seward  and 
have  been  followed  by  all  modern  editors. 

Galatea.  Qz  spells  Gallatea  and  abbreviates  Gall,  throughout  the 
play. 


160  ^ilatfter  [ACT  i. 


Dion.  She  is  one  that  may  stand  still  dis- 
creetely  enough,  and  ill-favour'dly  dance  her 
measure  ;  simper  when  shee  is  courted  by  her 
friend,  and  slight  her  husband.  60 

Cle.  The  last  ? 

Dion.  Faith,  I  thinke  she  is  one  whom  the 
state  keepes  for  the  agents  of  our  confederate 
princes  ;  she'll  cog  and  lie  with  a  whole  army, 
before  the  league  shall  break.  Her  name  is  com-  65 
mon  through  the  kingdome,  and  the  trophies  of 
her  dishonour  advanced  beyond  Hercules  pillars. 
She  loves  to  try  the  severall  constitutions  of 
mens  bodyes  ;  and,  indeede,  has  destroyed  the 
worth  of  her  owne  body  by  making  experiment  70 
upon  it  for  the  good  of  the  commonwealth. 

Cle.  She's  a  profitable  member. 

Megra.  Peace,  if  you  love  me  :  you  shall  see 
these  gentlemen  stand  their  ground  and  not  court 

US.  75 

Galatea.  What  if  they  should  ? 

Lady.  What  if  they  should  ! 

Meg  .  Nay,   let   her   alone.  —  What   if  they 
should  ?    Why,  if  they  should,  I  say  they  were 
never  abroad.     What  forraigner  would  doe  so  ?  80 
it  writes  them  directly  untravell'd. 

Gal.  Why,  what  if  they  be  ? 

La.  What  if  they  be  ! 

62  Faith.     Q4-F,  Many. 


SCENE  I.]  &tyl&ttet  l6l 


Meg.  Good  madam,  let  her  go  on.  —  What 
if  they  be  ?   Why  if  they  be,  I  will  justifie,  they  85 
cannot  maintaine  ^discourse  with  a  judicious  lady, 
nor  make  a  leg,  nor  say,  "  excuse  me." 

Gal.  Ha,  ha,  ha  ! 

Meg.  Doe  you  laugh,  madam  ? 

Dion.  Your  desires  upon  you,  ladyes.  90 

Meg.  Then  you  must  sit  beside  us. 

Dion.  I  shall  sit  neere  you  then,  lady. 

Meg.  Neare  me,  perhaps  :  but  there's  a  lady 
endures  no  stranger  ;  and  to  me  you  appeare  a 
very  strange  fellow.  95 

La.  Me  thinkes  he's  not  so  strange;  he  would 
quickly  bee  acquainted. 

Thra.  Peace,  the  King. 

Enter  King,  Pbaramond,  Aretbusa,  and  Traine. 

King.  To  give  a  stronger  testemony  of  love 
Then  sickly  promises  (which  commonly  100 

In  princes  finde  both  birth  and  buriall 
In  one  breath)  we  have  drawne  you,  worthy  sir, 
To  make  your  faire  indearements  to  our  daugh- 

ter, 
And  worthy  services  knowne  to  our  subjects, 

97  quickly  bee,  Q3~F.    Qz,  quickly  to  bee. 
Aretbusa.    Qz  spells  Arathusa  and  abbreviates  Ara.  throughout 
the  play. 

99  stronger.    Q4-F,  stranger. 
103  our.    Q5-F,  your.  104  our.    ^3,  £4,  your. 


1 62  pilaster  [ACTI. 

Now  lov'd  and  wondered  at ;  next,  our  intent,  105 
To  plant  you  deepely,  our  immediate  heire, 
Both  to  our  blood  and  kingdomes.   For  this  lady, 
(The  best  part  of  your  life,  as  you  confirme  me, 
And  I  beleeve)  though  her  few  yeeres  and  sex 
Yet  teach  her  nothing  but  her  feares  and  blushes,  no 
Desires    without  desire,   discourse   and   know- 
ledge 

Onely  of  what  her  selfe  is  to  her  selfe, 
Make  her  feele  moderate  health  j  and  when  she 

sleepes, 

In  making  no  ill  day,  knowes  no  ill  dreames. 
Thinke  not,  deare  sir,  these  undivided  parts,       "5 
That  must  mould  up  a  virgin,  are  put  on 
To  shew  her  so,  as  borrowed  ornaments, 
To  speake  her  perfect  love  to  you,  or  adde 
An  artificiall  shaddow  to  her  nature  — 
No  sir,  I  boldly  dare  proclaime  her  yet  120 

No  woman.    But  wooe  her  still,  and  thinke  her 

modesty, 

A  sweeter  mistrisse  then  the  offer'd  language 
Of  any  dame,  were  she  a  queene,  whose  eye 
Speaks  common  loves  and  comforts  to  her  serv- 
ants. 

Last,  noble  sonne,  (for  so  I  now  must  call  you)  125 
What  I  have  done  thus  publique,  is  not  onely 

118  speake,  Q3-F.    Qa,  talke  of. 

124  comforts.    Qi,  comfort.  126   onely.    Qi  omits. 


SC.N.I.]  pilaster  163 


To  adde  [a]  comfort  in  particular 

To  you  or  me,  but  all  ;  and  to  confirme 

The  nobles,  and  the  gentry  of  these  kingdomes, 

By  oath  to  your  succession,  which  shall  be         130 

Within  this  moneth,  at  most. 

Thra.  This  will  be  hardly  done. 
Cle.  It  must  be  ill  done,  if  it  be  done. 
Dion.  When  tis  at  best,  twill  be  but  halfe 

done, 
Whilst  so  brave  a  gentleman  is  wrong'd  and 

flung  off.  135 

Thra.  I  feare. 
Cle.  Who  does  not  ? 
Dion.  I  feare  not  for  my  selfe,  and  yet  I  feare 

too. 

Well,  we  shall  see,  we  shall  see.    No  more. 
Pharamond.  Kissing  your  white  hand,   mis- 

trisse,  I  take  leave  140 

To  thanke  your  royall  father  ;  and  thus  farre, 
To  be  my  owne  free  trumpet.    Understand, 
Great  King,  and  these  your  subjects,  mine  that 

must  be, 

(For  so  deserving  you  have  spoke  me,  sir, 
And  so  deserving  I  dare  speake  my  self)  145 

To  what  a  person,  of  what  eminence, 
Ripe  expectation,  of  what  faculties, 

1  27  adde  a,  Q3~F.    Qz  omits  a. 

129  these  kingdomes.    Qi,  our  kingdome.        134  tis.    Qi,itis. 


64  tiilaater  [ACT  i. 


Manners  and  vertues,  you  would  wed  your  king- 

domes  ; 

You  in  me  have  your  wishes.   Oh,  this  countrey  ! 
By  more  then  all  the  gods  I  hold  it  happy;         ISO 
Happy,  in  their  deare  memories  that  have  bin 
Kings  great  and  good  ;  happy  in  yours,  that  is  ; 
And  from  you  (as  a  chronicle  to  keepe 
Your  noble  name  from  eating  age)  doe  I 
Opine  my  selfe  most  happy.    Gentlemen,  155 

Beleeve  me  in  a  word,  a  princes  word, 
There  shall  be  nothing  to  make  up  a  kingdome 
Mighty,  and  flourishing,  defenced,  fear'd, 
Equall  to  be  commanded  and  obeyed, 
But  through  the  travells  of  my  life  I'le  finde  it,  160 
And  tye  it  to  this  countrey.    By  all  the  gods, 
My  reigne  shall  be  so  easie  to  the  subject, 
That  every  man  shall  be  his  prince  himselfe, 
And  his  owne  lawe  ;  yet  I  his  prince  and  law. 
And,  deerest  lady,  to  your  deerest  selfe,  165 

(Deere,  in  the  choyce  of  him,  whose  name  and 

lustre 
Must  make  you  more  and  mightier)  let  me  say, 

149  You  in  me.    Qi,  and  in  me.         your.    Qz  misprints,  you. 

150  all  the  gods.    Q4-F,  all  my  hopes. 
152  happy.    Q5-F  omit. 

154  eating,    gi,  rotting.  155    Opine,  F.    Qq,  Open. 

1  60  travells.    Mod.  Edd.,  travails.       finde  it.    Qi,  finde  it  out. 

161  By  all  the  gods.    Q^-F,  And  I  vow. 

162  so  .   .    .   subject.    Qi,  as  .   .   .   subjects. 


i.]  &ilaater  165 


You  are  the  blessedst  living;  for,  sweete  prin- 

cesse, 

You  shall  injoy  a  man  of  men  to  be 
Your  servant  ;  you  shall  make  him  yours,  for 

whom  170 

Great  queenes  must  die. 
Thra.  Miraculous  ! 

Cle.  This  speech  calls  him  Spaniard,  beeing 
nothing  but  a  large  inventory  of  his  owne  com- 
mendations. 175 

Dion.  I   wonder  what's  his   price?    for  cer- 

tainely 
Hee'll  sell  himselfe,  he  has  so  praisde  his  shape. 

Ent\_er\  Pbilaster. 

But  heere  comes  one  more  worthy  those  large 

speeches 

Than  the  large  speaker  of  them  j 
Let  mee  bee  swallowed  quicke,  if  I  can  finde,    180 
In  all  the  anatomy  of  yon  mans  vertues, 
One  sinnew  sound  enough  to  promise  for  him, 

1  72  Miraculous  !   Qi  ,  Miracles. 

176-185   I  -wonder  .   .   .  judgement.    Qq  and  F  print  as  prose; 
verse  first  in  ed.  1711. 

177  tell.    Q6,  F,  tell,    bimselfe  .   ,   .  prats'  d.    Qi,  him  .   .   . 
be  praised. 

Enter  Pbilaster,  so  placed  in  Qi  ;  in  Qz,  after  line  175. 

178  speeches.    Qi,  praises. 

181-182  In  .   .   .  enough.    Q  i,  all  the  Anatomy  of  yon  man's 
vertues  unseene  to  sound  enough. 


1 66  pilaster  [ACTI. 

He  shall  be  constable.    By  this  sunne, 

Hee'll  ne're  make  king,  unlesse  it  be  of  trifles, 

In  my  poore  judgement.  jgj 

Pbilaster.  Right  noble  sir,  as  low  as  my  obe- 
dience, 

And  with  a  heart  as  loyall  as  my  knee, 
I  beg  your  favour. 

King.  Rise,  you  have  it  sir. 

Dion.  Marke  but  the  King  how  pale  he  lookes, 

he  feares  ! 
Oh,  this  same  whoreson  conscience,  how  it  jades 

us !  i9& 

King.  Speake  your  intents  sir. 

Phi.  Shall  I  speake  um  freely  ? 

Be  still  my  royall  Soveraigne. 

King.  As  a  subject 

We  give  you  freedome. 

Dion.  Now  it  heates. 

Phi.  Then  thus  I  turne 

My  language  to  you,  prince,  you  forraigne  man  ! 
Ne're  stare,  nor  put  on  wonder,  for  you  must    195 

183-185   He  .    .   .  judgement,  division  of  lines  as  in  B  5   D  prints 
as  two  lines,  ending  the  first  with  king. 
184  of  trifles.    Q4-F,  D,  for  trifles. 
187  And.    Qi  omits.  188  your.    Qi,  for. 

189  /cokes,  be  feares!    Q4~F,  D,  looks  with  fear. 

190  Ob  .   .   .  bow.    Qi,  And  ...  ah  how. 

191  intents.    Qa,  intent.          um.    Qi,  on. 
193  turne.    Q5,  turnd. 

195  for.    Qi  omits. 


Indure  me,  and  you  shall.    This  earth  you  tread 

upon 

(A  dowry  as  you  hope  with  this  faire  princesse), 
By  my  dead  father  (oh,  I  had  a  father 
Whose  memory  I  bow  to  !)  was  not  left 
To  your  inheritance,  and  I  up  and  living, —      20o 
Having  my  selfe  about  me,  and  my  sword, 
The  soules  of  all  my  name,  and  memories, 
These  armes,  and  some  few  friends,  beside  the 

gods,  — 

To  part  so  calmely  with  it,  and  sit  still, 
And  say,  "  I  might  have  beene."    I  tell  thee, 

Pharamond,  205 

When  thou  art  king,  looke  I  be  dead  and  rotten, 
And  my  name  ashes,  as  I :  for,  heare  me,  Phara- 
mond, 

This  very  ground  thou  goest  on,  this  fat  earth, 
My  fathers  friends  made  fertile  with  their  faiths, 
Before  that  day  of  shame,  shall  gape  and  swallow  zio 
Thee  and  thy  nation,  like  a  hungry  grave, 
Into  her  hidden  bowells  :   prince,  it  shall ; 
By  the  just  gods  it  shall. 

Pha.  He's  mad  beyond  cure,  mad. 

1 97  faire.    Qi,  sweet. 

198-199  By  .    .   .   left.    Qq  and  F  transpose  these  two  lines;  the 
order  in  the  text  is  due  to  Th. 
203  beside,  Qz,  Q^.     Qi  et  al.,  besides. 
107  as  I.    Q4-F,  D,  omit.  212  her.    Qi,  his. 

413   By  the  just  gods.    Q4-F,  D,  By  Nemesis. 


1 68  p  Blaster  [ACTI. 

Dion.  Here's  a  fellow  has  some  fire  in's  vaines : 
The    outlandish    prince    lookes    like    a    tooth- 
drawer.  215 

Phi.  Sir,  prince  of  poppingjayes,  I'le  make  it 

well  appeare 
To  you,  I  am  not  mad. 

King.  You  displease  us, 

You  are  too  bold. 

Phi.  No  sir,  I  am  too  tame, 

Too  much  a  turtle,  a  thing  borne  without  pas- 
sion, 
A   faint   shaddow,  that   every  drunken   clow'd 

sayles  over  220 

And  makes  nothing. 

King.  I  doe  not  fancie  this. 

Call  our  physitions  :  sure  he's  somewhat  tainted. 

Thra.   I  doe  not  thinke  twill  prove  so. 

Dion.  H'as  given  him  a  generall  purge  already, 
For  all  the  right  he  has,  and  now  he  meanes       225 
To  let  him  blood.    Be  constant,  gentlemen, 
By  heaven,  I'le  run  his  hazard, 
Although  I  run  my  name  out  of  the  kingdome. 

216  Sir  .   .    .  poppingjayes,  I'le.    Qi,I  .   ,    .   popines,  I  will. 

219  turtle.    Qi,  turcle.  221   makes.  Qi,  make. 

22 1-222  fancie  this  .   .   .   sure.    Ql ,  fancy  this  choller,  Sure. 

224  H'as.    Q2,  Has. 

224-228   H'as  .   .    .   kingdome,  as  verse  first  by  W. 

226-227  Be  .    .   .   run.   Qi,  be  constant  gentle  heavens,  I '11  run. 

227  By  bea-ven.    Q4-D,  by  these  hilts. 


SCENE  I.]  ^tylBitttt  169 


Cle.  Peace,  we  are  all  one  soule. 

Pha.  What  you  have  scene  in  me  to  stirre 

offence,  230 

I  cannot  finde,  unlesse  it  be  this  lady, 
Offer'd  into  mine  armes,  with  the  succession, 
Which  I  must  keepe  (though  it  hath  pleasd  your 

fury 

To  muteny  within  you)  without  disputing 
Your  geneolegies,  or  taking  knowledge  235 

Whose  branch  you  are.    The  King  will  leave  it 

me, 
And  I  dare  make  it  mine  ;  you  have  your  answer. 

Phi.  If  thou  wert  sole  inheritor  to  him 
That  made  the  world  his,  and  couldst  see  no 

sunne 

Shine  upon  anything  but  thine  ;  were  Pharamond  240 
As  truely  valiant  as  I  feele  him  cold, 
And  ringd  amongst  the  choycest  of  his  friends, 
Such  as  would  blush  to  talke  such  serious  follies, 
Or  backe  such  bellied  commendations, 
And  from  this  presence,  —  spight  of  [all]  these 

bugs,  245 

You  should  heare  further  from  me. 

229  all.    g4'39~F  omit.  236  it  me.    Qi,  it  to  me. 

238  ivert.    Q4,  Q5b,  were. 

240  anything.    Q$b,  any  thine;  Q6,  F,  any. 

244  bellied,  Q3-F.    Qi,  Qz,  belied. 

245  this  presence.     Qi,  his  presence;  QS-F,  this  present. 
spigbt  .  .  .  bugs,  Q3~  F.  Qi,  Spit  all  those  bragges.  Qz  omits  all. 


1 70  pilaster  [ACTI. 

King.  Sir,  you  wrong  the  prince  : 
I  gave  you  not  this  freedome  to  brave  our  best 

friends ; 

You   deserve   our    frowne.     Go   to,  be  better 
temper'd. 

Phi.  It  must  be,  sir,  when  I  am  nobler  usde.  250 

Gal.  Ladyes, 

This  would  have  beene  a  patterne  of  succession, 
Had  he  ne're  met  this  mischiefe.    By  my  life, 
He  is  the  worthiest  the  true  name  of  man 
This  day  within  my  knowledge.  255 

Meg.  I  cannot  tell  what  you  may  call  your 

knowledge, 

But  the  other  is  the  man  set  in  my  eye : 
Oh,  tis  a  prince  of  wax. 

Gal.  A  dog  it  is. 

King.  Philaster,  tell  me, 
The  injuries  you  aime  at  in  your  riddles.  26o 

Phi.  If  you  had  my  eyes,  sir,  and  sufferance, 
My  griefes  upon  you,  and  my  broken  fortunes, 
My  wants  great,  and  now  nought  but  hopes  and 
feares, 

248-249  to  brave  .   .   .  frowne.    Qi  omits. 

250  nobler.    Qi,  noblier. 

251  Gal.    Ladyes,  etc.    Qi  gives  this  speech  to  Leon  (Dion). 

253  ne're.  Qi,  never. 

254  He  is.    Qi,  this  is.  256  your.    Qi  omits. 
257  the  other  is.   Qi,  I'm  sure  tothers.  my.   Q6,  F,  Th,  D,  mine. 

262  griefes.    Ql,  griefe. 

263  -wants.    Q2,  want's,   nought  but,  QA--F.    Ql-Q3,  nothing. 


SCENE  I.]  ^tottf  1 71 

My  wrongs  would  make  ill  riddles  to  be  laught 

at. 
Dare  you  be  still  my  king  and  right  me  not  ?      265 

King.  Give  me  your  wrongs  in  private. 

Phi.  Take  them ; 

And  ease  me  of  a  load  would  bow  strong  Atlas. 

They  whisper. 

Cle.  He  dares  not  stand  the  shock. 

Dion.  I  cannot  blame  him,  there's  danger  in't. 
Every  man  in  this  age  has  not  a  soule  of  christall,27o 
for  all  men  to  reade  their  actions  through  :  mens 
hearts  and  faces  are  so  farre  asunder  that  they 
hold  no  intelligence.    Doe  but  view  yon  stranger 
well,  and  you  shall  see  a  feaver  through  all  his 
bravery,  and  feele  him  shake  like  a  true  tenant ;  275 
if  he  give  not  back  his  crowne  againe  upon  the 
report  of  an  elder  gun,  I  have  no  augury. 

King.   Goe  to  : 

Be  more  your  selfe,  as  you  respect  our  favour; 
You'l  stirre  us  else;  sir  I  must  have  you  know, 280 

265  not.    Qi,  Q2,  omit. 
266-267   Take  .   .   .  Atlas.    Qi  omits. 
They  -whisper.    Qq,  F,  after  private,  1.  266. 
270-272  has  .   .   .  faces.    Qi,  has  a  soule  of  Christall,  to  read 
their  actions,  though  men's  faces. 

273  Doe.    Qi  omits.         yon.    Qi,  the. 

274  through.    Qi,  throw. 

275  bra-very.     Qi,  braveries.         true  tenant.    Qi,  true  truant. 
See  Notes. 

280  have.    Qi,  am. 


172 

That  y'are,  and  shall  be,  at  our  pleasure,  what 

fashion  we 
Will  put  upon  you.    Smooth  your  brow,  or  by 

the  gods  — 
Phi.  I  am  dead,  sir,  y'are  my  fate.     It  was 

not  I 

Said  I  was  wrong'd :   I  carry  all  about  me 
My  weake  stars  leade  me  to ;  all  my  weake  for- 
tunes. a85 
Who  dares  in  all  this  presence  speake,  (that  is 
But  man  of  flesh,  and  may  be  mortall)  tell  me, 
I  doe  not  most  intirely  love  this  prince, 
And  honour  his  full  vertues  ! 

King.  Sure  hee's  possest. 

Phi.  Yes,  with  my  fathers  spirit.     It's  here,. 

O  King,  *9° 

A  dangerous  spirit !  now  he  tells  me,  King, 
I  was  a  kings  heire,  bids  me  be  a  king, 
And  whispers  to  me,  these  are  all  my  subjects. 
Tis  strange,  he  will  not  let  me  sleepe,  but  dives 

281  y'are.     Qi,  W,  D,  you  are. 

281-281   That  .   .   .  gods.    D    prints   as    three   lines,    ending, 
•what,  brow,  gods. 

282  brtnv,  or.    Qi,  selfe,  ore.      284  I  was.     Q4~F,  I  was  not. 

285  leade.    Qs~F,  led.          to.    Qi-Q4»  too. 

286  dares.     Qi,  dare.     Qz  includes  speake  in  the  parentheses; 
Qi  omits  the  parentheses. 

287  man.    Qz,  men.  289  Sure.    Qi  omits. 

290  spirit.    It's  here.    Qi,  spirit  is. 

291  now.    Qi,  and  now.  292  be.    Q5-F,  are. 


SCENE  I.]  ^tttt  1 73 

Into  my  fancy,  and  there  gives  me  shapes  295 

That    kneele,    and    doe    me    service,  cry    me 

king : 

But  Fie  suppresse  him,  he's  a  factious  spirit, 
And  will  undoe  me. —  \T~o  Phar.~\    Noble  sir, 

your  hand, 
I  am  your  servant. 

King.  Away,  I  doe  not  like  this : 

Pie  make  you  tamer,  or  Pie  dispossesse  you        300 
Both  of  [your]  life  and  spirit.    For  this  time 
I  pardon  your  wild  speech,  without  so  much 
As  your  imprisonment. 

Exeunt  K\ing\,  Pba\ramond~\,  Are\tbu- 

sa,  and  Attendants]^ . 
Dion.  I  thanke  you,  sir,  you  dare  not  for  the 

people. 
Gal.  Ladyes,  what    thinke  you  now  of  this 

brave  fellow  ?  305 

Meg.  A  pretty  talking  fellow,  hot  at  hand. 
But  eye  yon  stranger ;  is  he  not  a  fine  compleate 
gentleman  ?  O  these  strangers,  I  doe  affect  them 
strangely  :  they  doe  the  rarest  home  things,  and 
please  the  fullest!  As  I  live,  I  could  love  all  thes10 
nation  over  and  over  for  his  sake. 

301  your,  Qi.    Qz-F  omit.  302  your.    Qi  omits. 

305   Gal.  Ladyes,  etc.    Qi  gives  this  speech  to  Tra.  (Thrasiline). 
307  be  not.    Q6,  F,  not  he.  310  I  could.    Q6,  F,  could  I. 

310-311   the  nation.    Qi,  their  nation. 


174  pilaster  [ACTI. 

Gal.  Gods  comfort  your  poore  head-peece, 
lady,  tis  a  weake  one,  and  had  need  of  a  night 
cap.  Exit  Ladyes. 

Dion.  See  how  his  fancy  labours,  has  he  not  315 
Spoke  home,  and  bravely  ?  what   a  dangerous 

traine 

Did  he  give  fire  to !    How  he  shooke  the  King, 
Made  his  soule  melt  within  him,  and  his  blood 
Run  into  whay  !    It  stood  upon  his  brow 
Like  a  cold  winter  dew. 

Phi.  Gentlemen,  320 

You  have  no  suite  to  me  ?    I  am  no  minion : 
You  stand  (me  thinkes)  like  men  that  would  be 

courtiers, 

If  I  could  well  be  flatter'd  at  a  price, 
Not  to  undoe  your  children.    Y'are  all  honest : 
Goe,   get   you   home   againe,   and    make   your 

countrey  3ZJ 

A  vertuous  court,  to  which   your  great  ones 

may, 
In  their  diseased  age,  retire  and  live  recluse. 

Cle.  How  doe  you,  worthy  sir? 

312  Gal.  Gods,  etc.  Qi  gives  this  speech  to  "Lad." 
Gods.  Q4-F,  Pride.  313  lady.  Qi  omits,  bad.  Qi,  has. 

315  Qq  and  F  end  this  line  with  spoke ;  the  division  in  the  text 
is  due  to  Th. 

323  /,  W,  D,  B.    Qq,  F,  you.    See  Notes. 

324  T'are.    Qi,  you  are.  327  recluse.    Qi,  recluses. 
328  worthy.    Qi,  worth. 


SCENE  I.]  ^HSiSttt  1  75 


Phi.  Well,  very  well  ; 

And  so  well,  that  if  the  King  please,  I  finde 
I  may  live  many  yeares. 

Dion  The  King  must  please,  330 

Whilst  we  know  what  you  are,  and  who  you 

are, 
Your  wrongs  and  vertues.    Shrinke  not,  worthy 

sir, 

But  ad  your  father  to  you  ;  in  whose  name, 
Wee'll  waken  all  the  gods,  and  conjure  up 
The  rods  of  vengeance,  the  abused  people,          335 
Who,  like  to  raging  torrents,  shall  swell  high, 
And  so  begirt  the  dens  of  these  Male-dragons, 
That  through  the  strongest  safety,  they  shall  beg 
For  mercy  at  your  swords  point. 

Phi.  Friends,  no  more  ; 

Our  eares  may  be  corrupted  :  tis  an  age  34° 

We  dare  not  trust  our  wills  to.   Do  you  love  me  ? 

Thra.  Do  we  love  heaven  and  honour  ? 

Phi.  My  Lord  Dion,  you  had 
A  vertuous  gentlewoman  cald  you  father; 
Is  she  yet  alive  ? 

Dion.  Most  honor'd  sir,  she  is  ;          345 

329  I  finde.    Qi  omits.  330   The.    Qi,  Sir,  the. 

331  what  .   .    .   <wbo.    Qi,  who  .    .   .   what. 

332  -virtues,  Qi,  D,  B.    Qa-F,  injuries. 

333  ad.    Qi,call.  336  to.    Qi  omits. 

339  Friends.    Qi,  Friend.  340  eares.    Q4'39~F,  years. 

343  Dion.    Qi,  Lyon. 


176  p&ilaater  CACTI. 


And  for  the  penance  but  of  an  idle  dreame, 
Has  undertooke  a  tedious  pilgrimage. 

Enter  a  Lady. 

Phi.  Is  it  to  me,  or  any  of  these  gentlemen 

you  come  ? 
Lady.  To    you,    brave    lord  ;   the    princesse 

would  intreate 

Your  present  company.  350 

Phi.  The   princesse  send   for  me  ?  you  are 

mistaken. 

La.  If  you  be  cald  Philaster,  tis  to  you. 
Phi.  Kisse  her  faire  hand,  and  say  I  will  attend 

her.  \Exit  Lady.~] 

Dion.  Doe  you  know  what  you  doe  ? 
Phi.  Yes,  goe  to  see  a  woman.  355 

Cle.  But  doe  you  weigh  the  danger  you  are  in  ? 
Phi.  Danger  in  a  sweete  face? 
By  Jupiter,  I  must  not  feare  a  woman. 

Thra.  But  are  you  sure  it  was  the  princesse 

sent  ? 
It  may  be  some  foule  traine  to  catch  your  life.  360 

346  the.    Qi,  a. 

Enter  a  Lady.  Qi  has  after  1.  344,  Enter  a  Gentlewoman  ;  and 
at  11.  349,  352,  for  La.  reads,  Gent-  Woo. 

348  Is  .  .  .  these.  Qi,  I'stto  me,  or  to  any  of  these.  D,  B, 
begin  a  new  verse-line  with  Or. 

351  you  are,  Qi.    Qa-F,  Y'are. 

352  to.    Qi  omits.  353  faire.    Q4-F  omit. 
Exit  Lady.    Qi  ,  Exit  Gent-  Woo  ;  Qz-F  omit. 


177 

Phi.  I  doe  not  thinke  it,  gentlemen;  she's 

noble. 

Her  eye  may  shoote  me  dead,  or  those  true  red 
And  white  friends  in  her  cheekes  may  steale  my 

soul  out ; 

There's  all  the  danger  in't :  but  be  what  may, 
Her  single  name  hath  arm'd  me. 

Exit  Pbil[aster] . 

Dion.  Goe  on :          365 

And  be  as  truely  happy  as  th'art  fearelesse !  — 
Come,  gentlemen,  let's   make  our  friends  ac- 
quainted, 
Least  the  King  prove  false.  Exit  Gentlemen. 

[SCENE  II. 

Aretbusa1  s  Apartment  in  the  Palace.] 
Enter  Aretbusa  and  a  Lady. 

Aretkusa.  Comes  he  not  ? 
Lady.  Madam  ? 

Are.  Will  Philaster  come  ? 

La.  Deare  madam,  you  were  wont 
To  credit  me  at  first. 

361  doe.    Qi,  dare. 

363  friends.    Qi,  fiend  friends.  cbeekes,  Qi.    Qa-F,  face. 

366  tb'art.    Qi,  Q6,  F,  thou  art. 

Enter  .  .  .  Lady.  Qi,  Enter  Princesse  and  her  Gentlewoman. 
Qi  throughout  the  scene  reads  "  Prin  "  for  Are.,  and  "  Woo" 
for  La.  3  at  first.  Qi,  at  the  first. 


178 

Are.  But  didst  thou  tell  me  so  ? 
I  am  forgetfull,  and  my  womans  strength 
Is  so  o'recharg'd  with  dangers  like  to  grow 
About  my  marriage,  that  these  under  things 
Dare  not  abide  in  such  a  troubled  sea  : 
How  lookt  he,  when   he   told  thee  he  would 
come  ? 

La.  Why,  well. 

Are.  And  not  a  little  fearfull  ? 

La.  Feare,  madam  !  sure,  he  knowes  not  what 
it  is. 

Are.  You  all  are  of  his  faction ;  the  whole 

court 

Is  bold  in  praise  of  him,  whilst  I 
May  live  neglected,  and  doe  noble  things, 
As  fooles  in  strife  throw  gold  into  the  sea, 
Drownd  in  the  doing.    But  I  know  he  feares  ? 

La.  Feare,  madam !   me  thought  his  lookes 

hid  more 
Of  love  than  feare. 

Are.  Of  love  ?    To  whom  ?    To  you  ? 

Did  you  deliver  those  plaine  words  I  sent, 
With  such  a  winning  jeasture  and  quicke  looke, 
That  you  have  caught  him  ? 

6  dangers.    F,  danger.  8  Dare.    Qi,  dares. 

1 3  all  are.    Q4~F,  are  all. 

1 8  Feare.    Qi  omits.          me  thought.    Qi  mee  thoughts. 

21  "winning.    Qi,  woing.          looke.    Qi,  looks. 

22  him.    Qi  omits. 


SCENE  II.]  ^tyfotittt  179 

La.  Madam,  I  meane  to  you. 

Are.  Of  love  to  me  !    Alas  !  thy  ignorance 
Lets  thee  not  see  the  crosses  of  our  births. 
Nature,  that  loves  not  to  be  questioned  25 

Why  she  did  this,  or  that,  but  has  her  ends, 
And  knowes  she  does  well,  never  gave  the  world 
Two  things  so  opposite,  so  contrary, 
As  he  and  I  am.    If  a  bowle  of  blood 
Drawne  from  this  arme  of  mine  would  poyson 

thee,  30 

A  draught  of  his  would  cure  thee.    Of  love  to 
me ! 

La.  Madam,  I  think  I  heare  him. 

Are.  Bring  him  in.   [Exit  Lady.~\ 

You  gods   that  would  not  have  your  doomes 

withstood, 

Whose  holy  wisdomes  at  this  time  it  is, 
To  make  the  passions  of  a  feeble  maide,  35 

The  way  unto  your  justice  ;  I  obay. 

La.  Here  is  my  Lord  Philaster. 

Enter  Phil[aster\ . 

Are.  Oh,  tis  well : 

Withdraw  your  selfe. 

a6  her.    Qi,  his. 

a8    Two.    Qi,  To.          contrary.  Qi,  bound  to  put. 
30  of  mine.    Qi  omits.  31    Of.    Qi  omits. 

33  ivould.    Qi,  will.          doomes.  Qi,  dens. 

35  passions.    Q4-F,  passion. 

36  unto.    Qi,  into.  37  tis.    Qi,  Qa,  it  is. 


i8o 

Phi/aster.  Madam,  your  messenger 

Made  me  beleeve,  you  wish'd  to  speake  with  me. 

Are.  Tis  true,  Philaster ;  but  the  words  are 

such, 

I  have  to  say,  and  doe  so  ill  beseeme 
The  mouth  of  woman,  that  I  wish  them  sayd, 
And  yet  am  loth  to  speake  them.    Have  you 

knowne, 

That  I  have  ought  detracted  from  your  worth  ? 
Have  I  in  person  wrong'd  you  ?  or  have  set 
My  baser  instruments  to  throw  disgrace 
Upon  your  vertues  ? 

Phi.  Never,  madam,  you. 

Are.  Why  then  should  you  in  such  a  publike 

place, 

Injure  a  princesse,  and  a  scandall  lay 
Upon  my  fortunes,  fam'd  to  be  so  great, 
Calling  a  great  part  of  my  dowry  in  question  ? 

Phi.  Madam,  this  truth  which  I  shall  speake 

will  be 

Foolish  :  but,  for  your  faire  and  vertuous  selfe, 
I  could  affoord  my  selfe  to  have  no  right 
To  any  thing  you  wish'd. 

Are.  Philaster,  know, 

I  must  enjoy  these  kingdomes. 

Phi.  Madam,  both  ? 


41   doe.    Qi,  dos.          beseeme.    Qi,  become. 
49   Injure.    Qi,  Injury.  50  fam* ' d. 

53  and.    Qi  omits. 


Qi,  found. 


181 

Are.  Both,  or  I  dye  :  by  heaven  I  die,  Philas- 

ter, 
If  I  not  calmly  may  enjoy  them  both. 

Phi.  I  would  doe  much  to  save  that  noble  life ; 
Yet  would  be  loth  to  have  posterity  60 

Find  in  our  stories  that  Philaster  gave 
His  right  unto  a  scepter  and  a  crowne, 
To  save  a  ladies  longing. 

Are.  Nay  then,  heare  . 

I  must  and  will  have  them,  and  more  — 

Phi.  What,  more  ? 

Are.  Or  lose  that  little  life  the  gods  prepared  65 
To  trouble  this  poore  peece  of  earth  withall. 

Phi.  Madam,  what  more  ? 

Are.  Turne  then  away  thy  face. 

Phi.  No. 

Are.   Doe. 

Phi.  I  can  indure  it.    Turne  away  my  face  ?  70 
I  never  yet  saw  enemy  that  lookt 
So  dreadfully  but  that  I  thought  my  selfe 
As  great  a  basiliske  as  he  ;  or  spake 
So  horrible  but  that  I  thought  my  tongue 
Bore  thunder  underneath,  as  much  as  his ;  75 

Nor  beast  that  I  could  turne  from  :  shall  I  then 

57  dye.    Qi,  do.          heaven.    Q3~F,  Fate. 

58  may.    Qi,  die.  70  can.    Q3-F,  W,  cannot. 
71  yet  sa-w.    Qi,  saw,  yet.         72  dreadfully.    F,  dreadful. 

73  spake.    Qi,  speake. 

74  horrible.    Q^-F,  horribly. 


1 82  Blaster  [ACTI. 

Beginne  to  feare  sweete  sounds  ?  a  ladies  voyce, 
Whom  I  doe  love  ?    Say  you  would  have  my 

life; 

Why,  I  will  give  it  you,  for  it  is  of  me 
A  thing  so  loath'd,  and  unto  you  that  aske  80 

Of  so  poore  use,  that  I  shall  make  no  price. 
If  you  intreate,  I  will  unmov'dly  heare. 

Are.  Yet,  for  my  sake,  a  little  bend  thy  lookes. 

Phi.  I  doe. 

Are.  Then  know  I  must  have  them,  and 

thee. 

Phi.  And  me  ? 

Are.  Thy  love  :  without  which,  all  the 

land  85 

Discovered  yet,  will  serve  me  for  no  use 
But  to  be  buried  in. 

Phi.  1st  possible  ? 

Are.  With  it,  it  were  too  little  to  bestow 
On  thee.    Now,  though  thy  breath  doe  strike  me 

dead 
(Which,  know,  it  may)  I  have  unript  my  brest.  90 

Phi.  Madam,  you  are  too  full  of  noble  thoughts, 
To  lay  a  traine  for  this  contemned  life, 
Which  you  may  have  for  asking :  to  suspect 

77  a  ladies  voyce.    Qi ,  a  womans  tongue. 

80  aske.  Qi,  beg.  81   no  f  rice.    Q5,  unprice. 

85    Thy.    Qsa,  the.  89  doe.    Qi  omits ;  Qs-F,  doth. 

93  may  have.    Qi,  might  have. 


SCENE  II.]  $tylSUStet  183 

Were  base,  where  I  deserve  no  ill.    Love  you  ! 
By  all  my  hopes,  I  doe,  above  my  life !  95 

But  how  this  passion  should  proceed  from  you, 
So  violently,  would  amaze  a  man 
That  would  be  jealous. 

Are.  Another  soule  into  my  body  shot, 
Could  not  have  fild  me  with  more  strength  and 

spirit,  ioo 

Than  this  thy  breath.    But  spend  not  hasty  time, 
In  seeking  how  I  came  thus  :  tis  the  gods, 
The  gods,  that  make  me  so ;  and  sure  our  love 
Will  be  the  nobler  and  the  better  blest, 
In  that  the  secret  justice  of  the  gods  105 

Is  mingled  with  it.    Let  us  leave  and  kisse, 
Lest  some  unwelcome  guest  should  fall  betwixt 

us, 
And  we  should  part  without  it. 

Phi.  Twill  be  ill, 

I  should  abide  here  long. 

Are.  Tis  true ;  and  worse, 

You  should  come  often.    How  shall  we  devise  JIO 
To  hold  intelligence  that  our  true  loves, 
On  any  new  occasion  may  agree 
What  path  is  best  to  tread  ? 

Phi.  I  have  a  boy, 

103  The  gods.    Qi  omits. 

104  nobler.    Qi,  worthier.      107  unwelcome.    Qi,  unwelcom'd. 
in  loves.    Q6,  F,  lovers.  112  any.    Qi,  an. 


1 84 

Sent  by  the  gods,  I  hope  to  this  intent, 

Not  yet  seen  in  the  court.    Hunting  the  bucke,  115 

I  found  him,  sitting  by  a  fountaine  side, 

Of  which  he  borrow'd  some  to  quench  his  thirst, 

And  payd  the  nymph  againe  as  much  in  teares ; 

A  garland  lay  him  by,  made  by  himselfe, 

Of  many  severall  flowers,  bred  in  the  vayle,       iao 

Stucke  in  that  mysticke  order,  that  the  rarenesse 

Delighted  me ;  but  ever  when  he  turnd 

His  tender  eyes  upon  um,  he  would  weepe, 

As  if  he  meant  to  make  um  grow  againe. 

Seeing  such  pretty  helplesse  innocence  125 

Dwell  in  his  face,  I  ask'd  him  all  his  story. 

He  told  me  that  his  parents  gentle  dyed, 

Leaving  him  to  the  mercy  of  the  fields, 

Which   gave  him  rootes ;  and  of  the  christall 

springs, 

Which  did  not  stop  their  courses;  and  the  sun,  130 
Which  still,  he  thank' d  him,  yielded  him  his 

light. 

Then  tooke  he  up  his  garland,  and  did  shew, 
What  every  flower  as  countrey  people  hold, 
Did  signifie,  and  how  all,  ordered  thus, 

116  fountaine,  Qi,  F.    Qa-Q6,  fountaines. 

118   againe  as  much.    Qi ,  as  much  againe. 

lao  vayle,  Qi.    Qz-F,  bay.  123  eyes.  Qi,  eye. 

124  um.    Qi,  them. 

130  their  courses.    Q I,  the  course. 

131  him  .    .    .   light.    Qi,  it  ...   life. 


SCENE  II.]  \)i\Z8ttt  185 


Exprest  his  griefe  ;  and,  to  my  thoughts,  did  reade  135 
The  prettiest  lecture  of  his  countrey  art 
That  could  be  wisht  ;  so  that,  me  thought,  I  could 
Have  studied  it.    I  gladly  entertaind 
Him  who  was  glad  to  follow  ;  and  have  got 
The  trustiest,  lovingst,  and  the  gentlest  boy,       140 
That  ever  maister  kept.    Him  will  I  send 
To  waite  on  you,  and  beare  our  hidden  love. 
Are.  Tis  well,  no  more. 

Enter  Lady. 

La.  Madam,  the  prince   is  come  to  doe  his 

service. 
Are.  What  will  you  doe,  Philaster,  with  your 

selfe  ?  145 

Phi.  Why,  that    which    all    the    gods   have 

pointed  out  for  me. 
Are.  Deare,  hide  thy  self.  — 
Bring  in  the  prince.  [Exit  Lady.~\ 

Phi.  Hide  me  from  Pharamond? 

When  thunder  speakes,  which  is  the  voyce  of 

God, 

137  me  thought.    Q  I,  me  thoughts. 

138-139   Have  .   .   .  got,    D's   arrangement   of  lines.     Qz-F 
end  first  line  with  Aim  ;  Qi  prints  as  prose. 
139  -who.    Qi,  whom.  Enter  Lady.    Qi,  Enter  woman. 

145  doe,  Philaster.     Qi,  Phylaster  doe. 

146  pointed  out,   W,  D,  B.    Qq,  F,  appointed  out. 
147-148   Deare  .   .    .  prince.    Qq,  F,  as  one  line. 
149   God.    Q4-F,Jove. 


1  86  &ilatfter  [ACTI. 


Though  I  doe  reverence,  yet  I  hide  me  not;      150 
And  shall  a  stranger  prince  have  leave  to  brag 
Unto  a  forraigne  nation,  that  he  made 
Philaster  hide  himselfe. 

Are.  He  cannot  know  it. 

Phi.  Though  it  should  sleepe  for  ever  to  the 

world, 

It  is  a  simple  sinne  to  hide  my  selfe,  155 

Which  will  for  ever  on  my  conscience  lie. 

Are.  Then,  good  Philaster,  give  him  scope  and 

way 

In  what  he  sayes  ;  for  he  is  apt  to  speake 
What  you  are  loth  to  heare  :  for  my  sake,  doe. 

Phi.  I  will.  1  60 

Enter  Pbaramond. 

Pharamond.  My  princely   mistrisse,  as    true 

lovers  ought, 

I  come  to  kisse  these  faire  hands,  and  to  shew, 
In  outward  ceremonies,  the  deare  love 
Writ  in  my  heart. 

Phi.  If  I  shall  have  an  answer  no  directlier,  165 
I  am  gone. 

150  yet  .   .   .   not.    Qi,  yet  I  doe  not  hide  my  selfe. 
159  for  my  sake,  doe.    Qi  omits. 

Enter  Pbaramond.    Qi,  Enter  Pharamont  and  a  woman.    D,  B, 
Reenter  Lady  with  Pharamond;  and  after  1.  162,  Exit  Lady. 

164  Writ  in.    Q  I,  within. 

165  no  directlier.    Qi,  or  no,  derectly. 


SCENE  II.]  $\)l\Z8ttt  187 

Pha.  To  what  would  he  have  answer  ? 

Are.  To  his  claime  unto  the  kingdome. 

Pha.  Sirra,  I  forbare  you  before  the  King.  — 

Phi.  Good  sir,  doe  so  still ;  I  would  not  talke 
with  you.  170 

Pha.  But  now  the  time  is  fitter,  doe  but  offer 
To  make  mention  of  right  to  any  kingdome, 
Though  it  be  scarce  habitable  — 

Phi.  Good  sir,  let  me  goe. 

Pha.  And  by  the  gods  — 

Phi.  Peace  Pharamond  !  if  thou  — 

Are.  Leave  us,  Philaster. 

Phi.  I  have  done.  175 

Pha.  You  are  gone  :  by  heaven  Tie  fetch  you 
backe. 

Phi.   You  shall  not  need. 

Pha.  What  now? 

Phi.  Know,  Pharamond, 

I  loathe  to  brawle  with  such  a  blast  as  thou, 
Who  art  nought  but  a  valiant  voyce ;  but  if 
Thou  shalt  provoke  me  further,  men  shall  say,  180 
Thou  wert,  and  not  lament  it. 

167  what  would.    Qit  what?  what  would,     antwer.    Q5-F, 
an  answer. 

173  be.      Qi,  lie. 

174  the  gods.    Q4-D,  my  sword,          tbou.    Q I,  then. 

176  Pba.   You  .   .    .   backe.    Qi  omits;  though  "Pha.  You" 
appear  as  catch-words  at  the  bottom  of  the  page. 
179  nought.    Qi,  nothing. 


1 88  p&ilasfter  [ACTI. 

Pba.  Doe  you  slight 

My  greatnesse  so  ?  and  in  the  chamber  of  the 
princesse  ? 

Phi.  It  is  a  place  to  which,  I  must  confesse, 
I  owe  a  reverence :  but  wer't  the  church, 
I,  at  the  altar,  there's  no  place  so  safe,  185 

Where  thou  darst  injure  me,  but  I  dare  kill  thee  : 
And  for  your  greatnesse,  know  sir,  I  can  graspe 
You  and  your  greatnesse  thus,  thus  into  nothing. 
Give  not  a  word,  not  a  word  backe  !  Farewell. 

Exit  [Pbilaster]. 

Pba.  Tis  an  odd  fellow,  madam,  we  must  stop  190 
His  mouth  with  some  office  when  we  are  married. 

Are.  You   were   best  make  him    your  con- 
trowler. 

Pba.  I   thinke   he  would   discharge   it  well. 

But,  madam, 

I  hope  our  hearts  are  knit ;  but  yet  so  slow 
The  ceremonies  of  state  are,  that  twill  be  long  195 
Before  our  hands  be  so.    If  then  you  please, 
Being  agreed  in  heart,  let  us  not  wayte 
For  dreaming  forme,  but  take  a  little  stolne 
Delights,  and  so  prevent  our  joyes  to  come. 

182  so.    Qi,  so  much. 

184-185  but  .   .    .   altar.    Qi,  but  wert  the  Church  at  the  high 
Altar. 

1 86  injure.    Qi,  injurie.  187  sir.    Qi  omits. 

193  But.    Qi  omits.  194  but  yet.    Q4-F,  D,  B,  and  yet. 

196  bands.    Q  i,  hearts.  If  then.    Q  I,  then  if. 

198  forme.    F,  for  me. 


SCENE  ii.]  Blaster  189 


Are.  If  you  dare  speake  such  thoughts,  zoo 

I  must  withdraw  in  honour.        Exit  Are\jtkusa\  . 

Pha.  The  constitution  of  my  body  will 
never  hold  out  till  the  wedding  j  I  must  seeke 
elsewhere.  —  Exit  Ph[aramond~\. 

aoo  such.    Qi,  your. 


ACTUS  2.     SCCENA  I. 

\An  Apartment  in  the  Palace.] 

Enter  Phi  last  er  and  Bellario. 

Philaster.  And  thou  shalt  finde  her  honourable, 

boy, 

Full  of  regard  unto  thy  tender  youth  ; 
For  thine  owne  modesty,  and  for  my  sake, 
Apter  to  give  then  thou  wilt  be  to  aske, 
I,  or  deserve. 

Bellario.        Sir,  you  did  take  me  up 
When  I  was  nothing;  and  onely  yet  am  some- 
thing, 

By  being  yours.    You  trusted  me  unknowne, 
And  that  which  you  were  apt  to  conster 
A  simple  innocence  in  me,  perhaps, 
Might  have  been  craft,  the  cunning  of  a  boy 
Hardned  in  lies  and  theft;  yet  venter'd  you, 
To  part  my  miseries  and  me  ;  for  which, 
I  never  can  expect  to  serve  a  lady 
That  beares  more  honour  in  her  breast  then  you. 

and  Bellario.  Qi,  and  his  boy  called  Bellario.  Qi  has 
"  Boy  "  for  Sell,  or  Bellario  throughout  the  play. 

4-10  Apter  .  .  .  boy.  Th's  division,  followed  by  D  and  B. 
Qq  and  F  end  lines  with  deserve,  nothing,  yours,  aft,  in  me,  boy. 

6  and  onely  yet  am.    Qi,  And  I  am  onely  yet. 

8  -were.  F,  are.  10  craft.    Qi,  crafty. 


SCENE  I.] 

Phi.  But,  boy,  it  will  preferre  thee.  Thou  art 

young,  15 

And  bear'st  a  childish  overflowing  love 
To  them  that  clap  thy  cheekes,  and  speake  thee 

faire  yet ; 
But  when  thy  judgement  comes  to  rule  those 

passions, 

Thou  wilt  remember  best  those  carefull  friends 
That  plac'd  thee  in  the  noblest  way  of  life  :         20 
She  is  a  princesse  I  preferre  thee  to. 

Bell.  In  that  small  time  that  I  have  scene  the 

world, 

I  never  knew  a  man  hasty  to  part 
With  a  servant  he  thought  trusty  :   I  remember, 
My  father  would  preferre  the  boyes  he  kept         25 
To  greater  men  then  he,  but  did  it  not 
Till  they  were  growne  too  sawcy  for  himselfe. 
Phi.  Why,  gentle  boy,  I  finde  no  fault  at  all 
In  thy  behaviour. 

Bell.  Sir,  if  I  have  made 

A  fault  of  ignorance,  instruct  my  youth  :  30 

I  shall  be  willing,  if  not  apt,  to  learne ; 
Age  and  experience  will  adorne  my  mind 
With  larger  knowledge ;  and  if  I  have  done 

1 6  bear'st,  Qi.    Qa-F,  bearest. 

17  clap.    Qi,  claps.         yet.    Qi  omits. 

18  thy.    Qi  omits.          to.    Qi,  no. 

23-24  /  ne-ver  .    .    .   remember.    Th,  D,  end  1.  23  with  "with. 
27  growne.    Qi   omits. 


192  ptjilaster  [ACTII. 

A  wilful  fault,  thinke  me  not  past  all  hope 
For  once.    What  master  holds  so  strict  a  hand     35 
Over  his  boy,  that  he  will  part  with  him 
Without  one  warning  ?    Let  me  be  corrected, 
To  breake  my  stubbornnesse,  if  it  be  so, 
Rather  then  turn  me  off ;  and  I  shall  mend. 

Phi.  Thy  love  doth  plead  so  prettily  to  stay,  40 
That   (trust  me)  I   could  weepe  to   part  with 

thee. 

Alas,  I  doe  not  turne  thee  off:  thou  knowest 
It  is  my  businesse  that  doth  call  thee  hence ; 
And  when  thou  art  with  her,  thou  dwellest  with 

me. 

Thinke  so,  and  tis  so :  and  when  time  is  full,      45 
That  thou  hast  well  discharged  this  heavy  trust, 
Laid  on  so  weake  a  one,  I  will  againe 
With  joy  receive  thee ;  as  I  live,  I  will. 
Nay,  weepe  not,  gentle  boy.    Tis  more  then 

time 
Thou  didst  attend  the  princesse. 

Bell.  I  am  gone.        5o 

But  since  I  am  to  part  with  you,  my  lord, 
And  none  knowes  whether  I  shall  live  to  doe 
More  service  for  you,  take  this  little  praier  : 

39  Rather.    Qz  misprints,  Rathet.      40  doth.    Qi,   dos. 

41   trust.    Qz  misprints,  tust.  42  knowest.    Qi,  knowst. 

43  doth.    Qi,  dos. 

44  dvvel/est.    Qi,  dwest ;   Q3~F,  dwel'st. 


SON.  ii.]  pilaster  193 

Heaven  blesse  your  loves,  your  fights,  all  your 

designes ; 

May  sicke  men,  if  they  have  your  wish,  be  well ;  55 
And  heaven  hate  those  you  curse,  though  I  be 

one !  Exit. 

Phi.  The  love  of  boyes  unto  their  lords  is 

strange ; 

I  have  read  wonders  of  it ;  yet  this  boy 
For  my  sake  (if  a  man  may  judge  by  lookes 
And  speech)  would  out-doe  story.    I  may  see       60 
A  day  to  pay  him  for  his  loyalty. 

Exit  Phi[laster\. 

[SCENE  II. 

A  Gallery  in  the  Pa lace, ,] 
Enter  Pbaramond, 

Pharamond.  Why  should  these  ladyes  stay  so 
long  ?  They  must  come  this  way ;  I  know  the 
queene  imployes  um  not,  for  the  reverend  mo- 
ther sent  mee  word  they  would  all  bee  for  the 
garden.  If  they  should  all  prove  honest  now,  I  5 
were  in  a  faire  taking ;  I  was  never  so  long 
without  sport  in  my  life,  and,  in  my  conscience, 
tis  not  my  fault.  Oh,  for  our  countrcy  ladyes  ! 

54  fights.    Qi,  sighes.  56   heaven.    Qi,  F,  Heavens. 

57  lords.    Q3,  Lord.  60  may.   Qi,  must. 

7  sport.   Qi,  sport  before. 


194 

Enter  Galatea. 

Heere's  one  boulted;  I'le  hound  at  her. —  [Ma- 
dam !] 

Galatea.  Your  grace  ! 

Pba.  Shall  I  not  be  a  trouble  ? 

Gal.  Not  to  me  sir. 

Pba.  Nay,  nay,  you  are  too  quicke ;  by  this 
sweete  hand  — 

Gal.  You'l  be  forsworn,  sir;  tis  but  an  old 

glove. 

If  you  will  talke  at  distance,  I  am  for  you : 
But,  good  prince,  be  not  bawdy,  nor  doe  not 

brag: 

These  two  I  barre, 

And  then  I  thinke,  I  shall  have  sence  enough, 
To  answer  all  the  waighty  apothegmes 
Your  roiall  blood  shall  manage. 

Pba.  Deare  lady,  can  you  love  ? 

Gal.  Deare  prince,  how  deare  ?  I  ne're  cost 
you  a  coach  yet,  nor  put  you  to  the  deare  re- 
pentance of  a  banquet.  Heere's  no  scarlet,  sir, 

Enter  Galatea,  placed  as  in  Qi.    Qi— F  place  after  at  her. 
9  one  .  .  .  hound.    Q5a,  on  ...  bound.     Madam.    Only  Qi. 
12  you  are.    Qi,  y'are. 

13-19    You'l  be  .   .   .  manage.    Division  of  lines  as  in  Th,  D, 
B  j    Ql)   F,  print  as  prose. 

15   But.   Qi   omits.  16  /  barre.   Qi,  I  onely  barre. 

^^  coach.   Qi,   couch. 

23  a  banquet.   Qi,  a  play  and  a  banquet. 


SCEN*II.]  pilaster  195 

to  blush  the  sinne  out  it  was  given  for.  This 
wyer  mine  owne  haire  covers ;  and  this  face  has  *5 
beene  so  farre  from  beeing  deare  to  any,  that  it 
ne're  cost  penny  painting;  and  for  the  rest  of 
my  poore  wardrobe,  such  as  you  see,  it  leaves 
no  hand  behind  it,  to  make  the  jealous  mercers 
wife  curse  our  good  doings.  3° 

Pha.  You  mistake  me,  lady. 

Gal.  Lord,  I  doe  so :  would  you  or  I  could 
helpe  it ! 

\_Pka.  Y'are  very  dangerous  bitter,  like  a  po- 
tion. 

Gal.  No,  sir,  I  do  not  mean  to  purge  you, 
Though  I  meane  to  purge  a  little  time  on  you.]   35 

Pha.  Do  ladyes  of  this  countrey  use  to  give 
No  more  respect  to  men  of  my  full  being  ? 

Gal.  Full  being  ?  I  understand  you  not,  un- 
lesse  your  grace  meanes  growing  to  fatnesse ; 
and  then  your  onely  remedy  (upon  my  know-  40 

24-25  to  blush  .  .  .  face.  Qi,  to  make  you  blush,  this  is  my 
owne  hayre,  and  this  face. 

27  fenny.    Qi,   Qsa,  a  peny. 

28  -wardrobe.   Qi,  Q6  wardrop  ;  Q5b,  wardrope. 

29  mercers.   Qi,  silke-mans. 

30  our  good  doings.    Qi,  our  doing. 

31  mistake.  Qi,  much  mistake.    32   Gal.   F  misprints  "  Pha. " 
33-35  Pha.   .  .   .you.    Only  in  Qi  ;   there  as  prose;  verse- 
division  by  D. 

36-37  Do  .   .   .  being.  Verse-division  by  Th,  D,  B ;  prose  in 


196 

ledge,  prince)  is,  in  a  morning,  a  cuppe  of  neate 
white  wine,  brewd  with  carduus ;  then  fast  till 
supper ;  about  eight  you  may  eate  :  use  exercise, 
and  keepe  a  sparrow-hawke,  —  you  can  shoot  in 
a  tiller  :  but  of  all,  your  grace  must  flie  phlebo-  45 
tomie,  fresh  porke,  conger,  and  clarified  whay; 
they  are  all  dullers  of  the  vitall  spirits. 

Pha.  Lady,  you  talke  of  nothing  all  this  while. 

Gal.  Tis  very  true,  sir,  I  talke  of  you. 

Pha.  This  is  a  crafty  wench ;  I  like  her  wit  50 
well ;  twill  bee  rare  to  stirre  up  a  leaden  appe- 
tite: she's  a  Danae,  and  must  be  courted  in  a 
showre  of  gold. —  Madam,  look  here,  all  these, 
and  more,  then  — 

Gal.  What  have  you  there,  my  lord  ?  Gold  !  55 
Now,  as  I  live,  tis  faire  gold :  you  would  have 
silver  for  it  to  play  with  the  pages ;  you  could 
not  have  taken  me  in  a  worse  time ;  but  if  you 
have  present  use,  my  lord,  I'le  send  my  man 
with  silver,  and  keepe  your  gold  for  you.  60 

Pha.   Lady,  lady  ! 

42  carduus.    Qi,  Qz,  cardus.  43  eight.    Q I,  five. 

46  conger.   Qi,  and  Conger. 

47  are  all.   Qi,  are.     spirits.   Qi,  anymales. 

48  "while.    Qi,   time. 

52  a  Danae.    Qi,  daintie.        in.  Qi,  with. 
54  more,  then  — .    D,  B,  more  than  — .        55  have.    Qi,  ha. 
56—57  you  "would  .  .  .for  it.    Qi,  you'd  .  .  .  fort. 
58  time.   Qi,  time  sir.          60  gold  for.    Qi,   B,  gold  safe  for. 
Qi  adds,  She  slips  behind  the  Orras. 


.]  Blaster  197 

Gal.  She's   comming,  sir,  behind,  will   take 

white  mony. 
\Aside^\    Yet  for  all  this  He  match  yee. 

Exit  Gal\atea\  behind  the  hangings, 
Pha.  If  there  be  but  two  such  more  in  this 
kingdome,  and  neere  the  court,  we  may  even  65 
hang  up  our  harpes  :  ten  such  camphier  consti- 
tutions as  this  would  call  the  golden  age  againe 
in  question,  and  teach  the  old  way  for  every  ill 
fac't  husband  to  get  his   owne  children ;    and 
what  a  mischiefe  that  would  breed,  let  all  con-  70 
sider. 

Enter  Megra. 

Heere's  another :  if  she  be  of  the  same  last,  the 
devill  shall  plucke  her  on.  —  Many  faire  morn- 
ings, lady  ! 

Megra.  As  many  mornings    bring  as  many 

daies,  75 

Faire,  sweete,  and  hopefull  to  your  grace. 
Pha.  [aside] .  She  gives  good  words  yet :  sure 

this  wench  is  free.  — 
If  your  more  serious  businesse  doe  not  call  you, 

60—63    Ga?"    SAe^s  camming  .   .  .  hangings.    Ql  reads  : 

Shes  comming  sir  behind, 

Will  ye  take  white  money  yet  for  all  this.  Exit. 

64—65   tut  .  .  .  kingdome.    Ql,  but  two  such  in  this  Kingdome 
more  ;   F  omits  but. 

65   e-ven.    Qit  ene.  67  -would,   Ql.    Qz-F,  will. 

78  call  you.    Qi,  call  you  Lady. 


198  pilaster  [ACTII. 


Let  me  hold  quarter  with  you  j  wee'll  talke  an 

houre 
Out  quickly. 

Meg.  What  would  your  grace  talke  of?  80 

Pha.  Of  some  such  pretty  subject  as  your 

selfe. 

I'le  go  no  further  then  your  eye,  or  lip; 
There's  theame  enough  for  one  man  for  an  age. 
Meg.  Sir,  they  stand  right,  and  my  lips  are 

yet  even, 
Smooth,  young  enough,  ripe   enough,  and  red 

enough,  8S 

Or  my  glasse  wrongs  me. 

Pha.  O,  they  are  two  twind  cherries  died  in 

blushes, 
Which  those  faire  sunnes  above  with  their  bright 

beames 

Reflect  upon  and  ripen  !    Sweetest  beauty, 
Bow  down  those  branches,  that  the  longing  taste  90 
Of  the  faint  looker  on  may  meete  those  blessings, 
And  taste,  and  live.  [They  kisse.] 

Meg.  O  delicate  sweete  Prince  ! 

She  that  hath  snow  enough  about  her  heart 

79  talke.    Qz,   Q6,  F,  take.   D  ends  line  with  talke. 
8a  or.    Qi,  your.  83  theame.   Qi,  time. 

85  and.    Q4*39-F  omit.  87  blushes.    Ql,  blush. 

88  bright.    Qi,  deepe. 

91  faint.    Qi,  sweete.          those.  Qi,  these. 
They  kisse.    Only  in  Qi. 


SCENE  II.]  ^OtiSttt  1 99 

To  take  the  wanton  spring  of  ten  such  lynes  off, 
May  be  a  nunne  without  probation.  95 

Sir,  you  have  in  such  neate  poetry  gathered  a 

kisse, 

That  if  I  had  but  five  lines  of  that  number, 
Such  pretty  begging  blankes,  I  should  commend 
Your  forehead,  or  your  cheekes,  and  kisse  you 

too. 
Pba.  Doe  it  in  prose;  you  cannot  misse  it, 

madam,  100 

Meg.  I  shall,  I  shall. 

Pha.  By  my  life  [but]  you  shall  not : 

Fie  prompt  you  first.    [Kisses  her.~\    Can  you  doe 

it  now  ? 
Meg.  Me  thinkes  tis  easie,  now  you  ha  don't 

before  [me] . 

But  yet  I  should  sticke  at  it —         [Kisses  him.~\ 
Pha.  Sticke  till  to  morrow  ; 

Fie  ne're  part  you,  sweetest.    But  we  lose  time;  105 
Can  you  love  me  ? 

94  off.  Qi  omits. 

95  May  .   .   .  probation.    Qi,  it  may  be  a  number  without 
Probatum. 

95-96  May  .  .  .  kisse.  Verse-division  as  in  Qq  and  F;  modern 
eds.  end  the  first  line  with  Sir ;   Qi   prints  speech  as  prose. 
100  in.   Qi,  by.  101   but,   Qi. 

102  Kisses  her,  W,  D,  B. 

103  now   .    .    .  me,  Qi,  D,  B;  Q^-F,  now  I  ha  don't  before. 

104  But.   Qi,  And.          /  should.   B,  should  I. 

Kisses  Aim,  editor.  105   ne're.   Qi,  never. 


200  pilaster  [ACT  n. 

Meg.  Love  you,  my  lord  ?    How  would  you 
have  me  love  you  ? 

Pha,  Pie  teach  you  in  a  short  sentence,  'cause 
I  will  not  load  your  memory  j  this  is  all :  love 
me,  and  lye  with  me.  uo 

Meg.  Was  it  lie  with  you  that  you  sayd  ?  Tis 
impossible. 

Pha.  Not  to  a  willing  minde,  that  will  en- 
deavor;   if  I   doe  not  teach  you  to  doe  it  as 
easily  in  one  night  as  you'l  goe  to  bed,  Fie  loosens 
my  royall  blood  for't. 

Meg.  Why,  prince,  you  have  a  lady  of  your 
owne  that  yet  wants  teaching. 

Pha.  I'le  sooner  teach  a  mare  the  old  meas- 
ures then  teach  her  any  thing  belonging  to  the  120 
function  :  she's  afraid  to  lie  with  her  selfe,  if 
she  have  but  any  masculine  imaginations  about 
her.  I  know,  when  we  are  married,  I  must  rav- 
ish her. 

Meg.   By  mine    honor,  that's  a    foule    fault  125 
indeed,  but  time  and  your  good  helpe  will  weare 
it  out,  sir. 

107  me  love  you.  Qi,  me  love  ye.  The  line  is  printed  as  prose 
in  Qq,  F. 

117-118  Why  .  .  .  teaching.  D,  B,  two  verse  lines,  beginning 
the  second  with  That. 

122  any  .    .    .  imaginations.   Qi,  my  .    .    .   imagination. 

125-127  By  .  .  .  sir.  Qi,  D,  B,  print  as  verse  beginning 
second  line  with  But. 

125   mine,  only  Qi ;   Qq,  F,  D,  B,  my.          tha? s.  D,  that  is. 


SCENE  II.]  ^HSLSttt  2OI 

Pha.  And  for  any  other  I  see,  excepting  your 
deare  selfe,  dearest  lady,  I  had  rather  be  Sir  Tim 
the    schoolemaster,  and    leape   a    dairye   maid,  130 
madam. 

Meg.   Has  your  grace  scene  the  court-starre, 
Galatea  ? 

Pha.  Out  upon  her !    She's  as  could  of  her 
favour  as  an  appoplex  :   she  saild  by  but  now.     135 

Meg.  And  how  doe  you  hold  her  wit,  sir  ? 

Pha.  I  hold  her  wit !  The  strength  of  all  the 
guard  cannot  hold  it ;  if  they  were  tied  to  it, 
she  would  blow  um  out  of  the  kingdome.  They 
talke  of  Jupiter,  he's  but  a  squib  cracker  to  140 
her :  looke  well  about  you,  and  you  may  finde  a 
tongue-bolt.  But  speake,  sweete  lady,  shall  I  be 
freely  welcome  ? 

Meg.  Whither? 

Pha.  To  your  bed  ;  if  you  mistrust  my  faith,  145 
you  doe  mee  the  unnoblest  wrong. 

Meg.  I  dare  not,  prince,  I  dare  not. 

Pha.  Make  your  owne  conditions,  my  purse 

128  any.   Qi,  my.  129   Tim  the.   Qi,  Timen  a. 

130  leafe.   Qi,  keepe. 

131  madam,  only  Q2  and  Q3.   D  and  B  omit. 

136  And  how  .   .   .   <wit,  sir.   Qi,  how  .   .   .   wit. 

138/0  it.   Qi,  toot. 

141-142  looke  .   .    .   bolt.   Qi  omits. 

144   Whither?  Qi,  Q2,  whether. 

146  unnoblest.   Qi,  most  unnoblest. 

147  I  dare  not.   Qi  omits. 


202  |0feila0ter  [ACT  n. 

shall  seal  um,  and  what  you  dare  imagine  you 

can  want,  I'le  furnish  you  withall.    Give  two  150 

houres  to  your  thoughts  every  morning  about  it. 

Come,  I  know  you  are  bashful ; 

Speake  in  my  eare,  will  you  be  mine  ?    Keepe 
this, 

And  with  it,  me :  soone  I  will  visit  you. 

[Gives  money '.] 

Meg.  My  Lord,  my  chamber's  most  unsafe, 
but  when  tis  night  155 

I'le  finde  some  means  to  slippe  into  your  lodg- 
ing: 

Till  when  — 

Pha.         Till  when,  this,  and  my  heart  goe 
with  thee  !  Exeunt  [several  ways.] 

Enter  Galatea  from  behind  the  hangings. 

Gal.  Oh  thou  pernitious  petticote  prince,  are 
these  your  vertues  ?    Well,  if  I  doe  not  lay  a 
traine  to  blow  your  sport  up,  I  am  no  woman  :i  60 
and,  Lady  Towsabell,  I'le  fit  you  for*t. 

Exit  Gal[atea~], 

150—151   PWO  houres.  Qi,  worship.         i$iyouare.  Qi,y'are. 
153—157  Speake  .   .   .  thee.   D's  division ;  prose  in  Qq  and  F. 

154  /  -will.   Qi,  I  shall. 

Gives  money,  editor.     W,  D,  B,  Gives  a  ring. 

155  unsafe.  Qi,  uncertaine. 

157  several  "ways,   Q3~F.   Qi,  Exit  ambo. 

hangings.   Qi,  orras. 

161    Towsabell.   Qi,  Dowsabell.         fir't.   Qi,fbrit. 


SCENE  III.]  ^fyltoUtttt  203 

[SCENE  III. 

Aretbusa* 's  Apartment  in  the  Palace. ~\ 
Enter  Arethusa  and  a  Lady. 

Aretbusa.  Where's  the  boy  ? 
Lady.  Within,  madam. 

Are.  Gave  you  him  gold  to  buy  him  cloathes  ? 
La.  I  did. 

Are.  And  has  he  don't  ?  5 

La.  Yes,  madam. 

Are.  Tis  a  pretty  sad-talking  boy,  is  it  not  ? 
Asked  you  his  name  ? 
La.  No,  madam. 

Enter  Galatea. 

Are.  O  you  are  welcome,  what  good  newes  ?  10 
Gal.  As  good  as  any  one  can  tell  your  grace, 
That  sayes  she  has  done  that  you  would  have 

wish'd. 

Are.  Hast  thou  discovered  ? 
Gal.  I  have  strain'd  a  point  of  modesty  for 

you. 
Are.  I  preethee  how  ?  15 

Enter  .  .  .  Lady.  Qi,  Enter  Princesse  and  her  Gentle- 
woman. Qi  abbreviates  "  Prin"  and  "Wo"  throughout  the 
scene. 

•2.  madam.   Qi  omits.  7  is  it.    Qi,  i'st. 

I  a  has.   Q6,  F,  hath. 

1 3-1 5   Hast  .  .  .  how.    D  as  two  lines,  ending  first  with  point. 


204  pljilaster  [ACT  n. 

Gal.  In  listning  after  bawdery.  I  see,  let  a 
lady  live  never  so  modestly,  shee  shall  bee  sure 
to  finde  a  lawfull  time  to  barken  after  bawdery; 
your  prince,  brave  Pharamond,  was  so  hot  on't. 

Are.  With  whom  ?  20 

Gal.  Why,  with  the  lady  I  suspected  :  I  can 
tell  the  time  and  place. 

Are.  O  when,  and  where  ? 

Gal.  To-night,  his  lodging. 

Are.  Runne  thy  selfe  into  the  presence  ;  min- 
gle there  againe  25 
With  other  ladies ;  leave  the  rest  to  me. 

{Exit  Galatea.'} 

If  Desteny  (to  whom  we  dare  not  say, 
"  Why  didst  thou  this  ")  have  not  decreed  it  so 
In  lasting  leaves  (whose  smallest  carracters 
Was  never  alterd  yet),  this  match  shall  breake.  —  30 
Where's  the  boy  ? 

La.  Here,  madam. 

Enter  Bellario. 

Are.  Sir,  you  are  sad  to  change  your  service, 
ist  not  so  ? 

16-19  I"  •  -  •  on't.  D  as  four  lines,  ending  lady,  finde, 
bawdery,  on't. 

17  shee.   Qi,  they.  a  I   suspected.   Q4--F,  suspect. 

25  presence.    Qi,  presents. 

28  Why  didst  thou  this,  Th,  W,  B.  J>q,  F,  D,  Why  thou 
didst  this. 

30  Was.  F,  D,  B,  Were.          altered.   Qa  misprints,  atltered. 

33  you  are.   Qi,  your. 


SCENE  in.]  pilaster  205 

Bellario.  Madam,  I  have  not  chang'd ;  I  wayte 

on  you, 
To  doe  him  service. 

Are.  Thou  disclaimst  in  me;        35 

Tell  me  thy  name. 
Bell.  Bellario. 

Are.  Thou  canst  sing  and  play  ? 
Bell.  If  griefe  will  give  me  leave,  madam,!  can. 
Are.  Alas,  what  kinde  of  griefe  can  thy  yeares 

know  ?  4° 

Hadst  thou  a  curst  master  when  thou  wentst  to 

schoole  ? 

Thou  art  not  capable  of  other  griefe ; 
Thy  browes  and  cheekes  are  smooth  as  waters  be 
When  no  breath  troubles  them  :  believe  me,  boy, 
Care  seekes  out  wrinckled  browes  and  hollow 

eyes,  45 

And  builds  himselfe  caves  to  abide  in  them. 
Come,  sir,  tell  me  truely,  doth  your  lord  love 

me? 

Bell.  Love,  madam  !    I  know  not  what  it  is. 
Are.  Canst  thou  know  griefe,  and  never  yet 
knewest  love  ? 

3  5    Thou  disclaimst  in  me.   Qi ,  Then  trust  in  me. 
41   curst  master.   Qi,  crosse  schoole-maister. 

43  -waters.   Qi,  water. 

44  troubles.   Q5,  Q6,  trouble.  45  out.   Qi  omits. 
46  himselfe.   Qi,  itselfe.                      47  doth.   Q4-F,  does. 
48  madam  !  I  know  not.  Qi,  I  know  not  Madame. 


206  Blaster  !>«•  "• 

Thou  art  deceived,  boy  ;  does  he  speake  of  me  50 
As  if  he  wish'd  me  well  ? 

Bell.  If  it  be  love, 

To  forget  all  respect  to  his  owne  friends, 
With  thinking  of  your  face  ;  if  it  be  love, 
To  sit  crosse  arm'd  and  thinke  away  the  day, 
Mingled  with  starts,  crying  your  name  as  loud     55 
And  hastily,  as  men  i'the  streetes  doe  fire ; 
If  it  be  love,  to  weepe  himselfe  away, 
When  he  but  heares  of  any  lady  dead 
Or  kil'd,  because   it   might   have   beene    your 

chance ; 

If,  when  he  goes  to  rest  (which  will  not  be),       60 
Twixt  every  prayer  he  saies,  to  name  you  once, 
As  others  drop  a  bead,  be  to  be  in  love ; 
Then,  madam,  I  dare  sweare  he  loves  you. 

Are.  O,  y'are  a  cunning  boy,  and  taught  to 

lie  65 

For  your  lords  credit ;  but  thou  knowest,  a  lie 
That  beares  this  sound  is  welcomer  to  me 
Then  any  truth  that  saies  he  loves  me  not. 

50  deceived.   Qi,  deceiv'd.          52  to  his.   Q4-F,  of  his. 

53  With.  Q4-F,  In.          54  thinke.   Q4-F,  sigh. 

55  Mingled  <with  starts.    Qi,  with  mingling  starts  and. 

56  And  hastily.   Qi  omits.          ithe.   Qi,  in. 
58  lady.    Qi,  woman. 

62  a  bead.   Qi,  beades.    Qz  misprints,  beard. 

63  you.   Qi,  ye.          64—65  to  He  For  your.   Qi,  to  your. 
65  knowest.    Qi,  know' St. 


SCENE  IV.] 

Leade  the  way,  boy.  —  [To  Lady.~\   Doe  you 

attend  me  too.  — 

Tis  thy  lords  businesse  hastes  me  thus.    Away  ! 

Exeunt. 

[SCENE  IV. 

Before  Pbaramond's  Lodging  in  the  Court  of  the 
Palace.] 

Enter  Dion,  Cleremont,  Tbrasilin,  Megra,  Galatea. 

Dion.  Come,  ladyes,  shall  we  talke  a  round  ? 

As  men 

Doe  walke  a  mile,  women  should  talke  an  houre 
After  supper ;  tis  their  exercise. 

Galatea.  Tis  late. 

Megra.  Tis  all 
My  eyes  will  doe  to  lead  me  to  my  bed. 

Gal.  I  feare  they  are  so  heavy,  you'll  scarce 

finde 
The  way  to  your  owne  lodging  with  um  to-night, 

Enter  Pbaramond. 
Thrasiline.  The  prince! 

69  thus.  Away.   Qi,  thus  away. 

Enter,  etc.    Qi,  Enter  the  three  Gentlewomen,  Megra,  Galla- 
tea,  and  another  Lady. 

I  Dion.   Qi,   "Tra."          talke.   Q6,  F,  take. 

7  they  are.   Qi,  theyre.         you'll.   Qz,  theile. 

8  owne.   Q3-F  omit. 

Enter  Pharamond.   Qi,  Enter  Pharamont,  the  Princesse  boy, 
and  a  woman.   Qi  gives  "  Prin."  for  Are.  throughout  scene. 


2o8  laster  [ACT  n. 


Pharamond.  Not  abed,  ladyes  ?  y'are  good  sit- 

ters-up  ;  10 

What  thinke  you  of  a  pleasant  dreame  to  last 
Till  morning. 

Meg.   I  should  chose,  my  lord,  a  pleasing  wake 
before  it. 

Enter  Aretbusa  and  Bellario. 

Arethusa.  Tis  well,  my  lord  :  y'are  courting 

of  these  ladyes. 

1st  not  late,  gentlemen  ?  15 

Cleremont.  Yes,  madam. 

Are.  Waite  you  there.  Exit  Aretbusa. 

Meg.  \_aside\  .  She's  jealous,  as  I  live.  —  Looke 

you,  my  lord, 
The  princess  has  a  Hilas,  an  Adonis. 

Pha.   His  forme  is  angell-like.  20 

Meg.   Why,  this  is  he  must,  when  you  are  wed, 
Sit  by  your  pillow,  like  young  Apollo,  with 
His  hand  and  voyce  binding  your  thoughts  in 

sleep  : 

The  princesse  does  provide  him  for  you,  and 
for  her  selfe. 

II  pleasant.    Qi,  pleasing.  13   should.   Qi,  shall. 

Enter,  etc.    Qi  omits. 

14  my  lord.   Qi  omits.          these.   Q3~F  omit. 

16   Cleremont.   Qi,   "  Gall."  18  you.    Qi  omits. 

19  has.   Qi  omits.          Hilas.   Qi,  Hilus. 

21   this  is  he  must.   Oi,  this  is  that  ;  D,  B,  this  is  he  that. 


SCENE  IV.]  tytylt&ttt  2OQ 

Pha.  I  finde  no  musique  in  these  boyes. 
Meg.  Nor  I.     15 

They  can  doe  little,  and  that  small  they  doe, 
They  have  not  wit  to  hide. 

Dion.  Serves  he  the  princesse  ? 

Thra.  Yes. 

Dion.  Tis   a    sweete  boy ;   how  brave 

she  keepes  him  ! 
Pha.  Ladyes  all,  good  rest ;  I  meane  to  kill 

a  bucke 
To    morrow    morning,    ere    y'ave    done    your 

dreames.  30 

Meg.  All  happinesse  attend  your  grace. 

[Exit  Pbaramond.~\ 
Gentlemen,  good  rest.  — 
Come  shall  we  to  bed  ? 

Gal.  Yes,  —  all  good  night. 

Exit  Gal\atea  and\  Meg\rd\. 
Dion.  May  your  dreames  be  true  to  you.  — 
What  shall  we  doe,  gallants  ?    Tis  late ;  the  King 
Is  up  still :  see  he  comes,  a  guard  along  35 

With  him. 

Enter  King,  Arethusa  and  Guard. 
King.  Looke  your  intelligence  be  true. 

2.7  hide.   Qi,  hide  it.       30  y'ave.    Qi,  you  have  ;   Q6,  y'are. 
32   Come.    Qi  omits.  Exit,  etc.    Qi  omits. 

Enter  .    .    .    Guard.   Qi  has  after  late  (1.  34),  Enter  the  King, 
the  Princesse,  and  a  guard.  36  your.    Qi  omits. 


210  pilaster  [ACT  n. 

Are.  Upon  my  life  it  is :  and  I  doe  hope 
Your  highnesse  will  not  tie  me  to  a  man 
That  in  the  heate  of  wooing  throwes  me  off, 
And  takes  another. 

Dion.  What  should  this  meane  ?      40 

King.  If  it  be  true, 

That  lady  had  been  better  have  embrac'd 
Cureless  diseases ;  get  you  to  your  rest ; 

Ex\euni\  Are\tbusa  and~^Bell[ario\. 
You  shall  be  righted.    Gentlemen,  draw  neere, 
We  shall  imploy  you.    Is  young  Pharamond        45 
Come  to  his  lodging? 

Dion.  I  saw  him  enter  there. 

King.  Haste  some  of  you,  and  cunningly  dis- 
cover, 
If  Megra  be  in  her  lodging.  [Exit  Dion.~\ 

Cle.  Sir, 
She  parted  hence  but  now  with  other  ladyes.        50 

King.  If  she  be  there,  we  shall  not  need  to 

make 

A  vaine  discovery  of  our  suspition. 
[Aside^\  You  gods,  I  see  that  who  unrighteously 
Holds  wealth  or  state  from  others,  shall  be  curst 
In  that  which  meaner  men  are  blest  withall :        55 
Ages  to  come  shall  know  no  male  of  him 
Left  to  inherit,  and  his  name  shall  be 

42  have.    Qi  omits.  Exeunt,  etc.    Qi  omits. 

45  you.   Qi,  ye.  Exit  Dion.   Qi  has  "  Exit  Leon  " 

after  1.  50.          49   Cle.  Qi,  "Leon." 


Blotted  from  earth  ;  if  he  have  any  child, 

It  shall  be  crossely  match'd ;  the  gods  themselves 

Shall  sow  wilde  strife  betwixt  her  lord  and  her.    60 

Yet,  if  it  be  your  wills,  forgive  the  sinne 

I  have  committed;  let  it  not  fall 

Upon  this  understanding  child  of  mine  ! 

She  has  not  broke  your  lawes.    But  how  can  I 

Looke  to  be  heard  of  gods  that  must  be  just,       65 

Praying  upon  the  ground  I  hold  by  wrong  ? 

Enter  Dion. 

Dion.  Sir,  I  have  asked,  and  her  women 
sweare  she  is  within ;  but  they,  I  thinke,  are 
bawdes.  I  told  um,  I  must  speake  with  her ; 
they  laught,  and  said  their  lady  lay  speechlesse.  70 
I  said,  my  business  was  important;  they  said, 
their  lady  was  about  it.  I  grew  hot,  and  cryed, 
my  businesse  was  a  matter  that  concern'd  life 
and  death ;  they  answered,  so  was  sleeping,  at 
which  their  lady  was.  I  urg'd  againe,  shee  had  75 
scarce  time  to  bee  so  since  last  I  saw  her ;  they 
smilde  againe,  and  seem'd  to  instruct  mee  that 
sleeping  was  nothing  but  lying  downe  and  wink- 
ing. Answers  more  direct  I  could  not  get :  in 
short,  sir,  I  thinke  she  is  not  there.  80 

58  earth.  Qi,  the  earth.       63  understanding.  Q I,  undeserving. 
64  She.    Qi,  if  she.          can.     Qi,  could.          66  by.   Qit  in. 

79  get-   Ql)  8et  from  them. 

80  /  thinke.   Qi  omits.        she  is.   Qi,  shee' 8. 


King.  Tis  then  no  time  to  dally.  — You  o'th 
guard, 

Waite  at  the  backe  dore  of  the  princes  lodging, 

And  see  that  none  passe  thence  upon  your  lives. 

Knocke,  gentlemen  ;  knocke  loud  ;  lowder  yet : 

What,  has  their  pleasure  taken  off  their  hear- 
ing ?  —  85 

Pie  breake  your  meditations.  —  Knocke  againe. 

— Not  yet  ?  I  doe  not  thinke  he  sleepes,  having 
this 

Larum  by  him. — Once  more,  Pharamond!  prince ! 

Pbaramond  above. 

Pha.  What    sawcy   groome    knocks   at   this 

dead  of  night  ? 

Where  be  our  waiters  ?    By  my  vexed  soule,        90 
He  meetes  his  death  that  meetes  me,  for  this 

boldnesse. 
King.  Prince,    [prince,]     you    wrong    your 

thoughts,  we  are  your  friends  : 
Come  downe. 

Pha.  The  King ! 

8 1   no  time.   Q$z,  not  time.          o'th.   Qi,  a'th. 

84  loivder  yet.   Qi  omits. 

85  their  .    .    .   their.    Qi,  your  .    .   .   your. 

86  meditations.    Qi,  meditation. 
againe.  Qi,  again,  and  louder. 

87-88  this  Larum,  Q^-f.  Qi,such  larumes.  Qa,  his  Larum. 
88  prince.  Qi  omits,  and  adds  stage-direction,  "They  knock." 
92  Prince,  prince,  Qi.  Qi-F,  Prince. 


SCENE  IV.]  ^tylmtt  21 3 

King.  The  same,  sir ;  come  downe  j 

We  have  cause  of  present  counsell  with  you. 
Pha.  If  your   grace   please   to   use   me,  I'le 

attend  you  95 

To  your  chamber.  Pha[ramond~\  below. 

King.  No,  tis  too  late,  prince ;  I'le  make  bold 

with  yours. 

Pha.  I  have  some  private  reasons  to  my  selfe, 

Makes  me  unmannerly,  and  say  you  cannot. — 

[  They  prease  to  come  in.~\ 

Nay,  prease  not  forward,  gentlemen ;  he  must 

come  100 

Through  my  life  that  comes  here. 

King.  Sir,  be  resolv'd,  I  must  and  will  come. 

—  Enter ! 

Pha.  I  will  not  be  dishonor'd : 
He  that  enters,  enters  upon  his  death. 
Sir,  tis  a  signe  you  make  no  stranger  of  me,        105 
To  bring  these  renegados  to  my  chamber, 
At  these  unseasoned  hours. 

King.  Why  doe  you 

93    The  same,  sir;  come  dotvne,  Qa-F.    Qi,  D,  The  same,  sir. 
Come  down  sir  ;  B,   The  same.   Come  down,  sir. 

98  some.   Qi,  certaine.          my  selfe.   Qi,  my  selfe  sir. 

They  prease  to  come  in,  Qi.  loo  gentlemen.    Qi  omits. 

102  reiol-v" d,    I  must  .    .    .   Enter,   Qa,    Q3,  D,  B.    Qi,  re- 
solved, I  must  come,  and  will  come  enter.    Q4-F  misprint  Enter  at 
end  of  preceding  line. 

103  dishonor'1 d.   Qi,  dishonoured  thus. 
1 06  renegados.    Qi,   runagates. 


Chafe  your  selfe  so  ?  you  are  not  wrong'd,  nor 

shall  be; 

Onely  Fie  search  your  lodging,  for  some  cause 
To  our  selfe  knowne.  —  Enter,  I  say. 

Pha.  I  say  no.  no 

Meg\rd\  above. 

Meg.  Let  um  enter,  prince,  let  um  enter; 
I  am  up  and  ready  :   I  know  there  businesse  ; 
Tis  the  poore  breaking  of  a  ladies  honour, 
They  hunt  so  hotly  after;  let  um  enjoy  it. — 
You   have    your  businesse,  gentlemen ;    I   lay 

here. —  115 

O,  my  lord  the  King,  this  is  not  noble  in  you, 
To  make  publique  the  weakenesse  of  a  woman. 

King.  Come  downe. 

Meg.  I  dare,  my  lord :  your  whootings  and 

your  clamors, 

Your  private  whispers  and  your  broad  fleerings,  120 
Can  no  more  vex  my  soule  then  this  base  car- 
riage ; 

But  I  have  vengance  yet  in  store  for  some 
Shall,  in  the  most  contempt  you  can  have  of  me, 
Be  joy  and  nourishment. 

108  so.  Qi  omits.          109  Fie.  Qi  omits. 

no  knowne.    Qi  omits.          say  no.  Qi,  so  no. 

in-liz  Let  aw  ...  businesse.  Verse-division  of  D. 
Qi  ends  first  line  with  uf>,  omitting  and  ready ,  and  printing  the  rest 
erf  the  speech  as  prose.  Qi-F  end  first  line  with  prince. 

116  the.  Qi,  a.       119  ivhootings.  Qi,  whoting  j  D,  hootings. 

122  yet.    Qi,  still. 


SCENE  IV.]  i\&&ttt  21$ 


King.  Will  you  come  downe  ? 

Meg.  Yes,   to   laugh  at  your  worst  ;   but  I 

shall  wring  you,  i»5 

If  my  skill  faile  me  not.         \Exit  Megra  above  .] 
King.  Sir,  I  must  dearely  chide  you  for  this 

loosenesse  ; 
You    have  wrong'd  a  worthy  lady  ;     but,  no 

more.  — 
Conduct  him  to  my  lodging,  and  to  bed. 

\_Exeunt  Pharamond  and  Attendants^ 
Cle.  Get  him  another  wench,  and  you  bring 

him  to  bed  in  deed.  13° 

Dion.  Tis  strange  a  man  cannot  ride  a  stage 
Or  two,  to  breathe  himselfe,  without  a  warrant 
If  this  geere  hold,  that  lodgings  be  search'd  thus, 
Pray  God  we  may  lie  with  our  owne  wives  in 

safety, 
That  they  be  not  by  some  tricke  of  state  mistaken!  135 

Enter  [Attendants]  with  Megra  \below\. 
King.  Now   lady    of  honour,  where's   your 
honour  now  ? 

115  -wring.   Q5a,  Q6,  F,  wrong. 

127  dearely  chide  you.   Qi,  chide  you  dearly. 

128  •worthy.   Qi  omits.  129  my.   Qi,  his. 
Exeunt  .    .   .   Attendants,   D. 

131—135  Tis  .  .  .  mistaken.  Verse-division  as  in  Qz-F.  Qi 
ends  lines  two,  hold,  lie,  be  not,  mistaken. 

131   stage,   Qi.    Qz-F,   Stagg  or  Stagge. 

134  God.  Q4-F,  heaven.  Enter  .  .  .  below.  Qi  omits, 
but  has  in  margin,  "  they  come  downe  to  the  King." 


2i  6  Mjtottt  [ACT  ii. 


No  man  can  fit  your  pallat  but  the  prince. 
Thou  most  ill  shrowded  rottennesse,  thou  piece 
Made  by  a  painter  and  a  pothicary, 
Thou  troubled  sea  of  lust,  thou  wildernesse        140 
Inhabited  by  wild  thoughts,  thou  swolne  clowd 
Of  infection,  thou  ripe  mine  of  all  diseases  : 
Thou  all-sinne,  all-hell,  and  last,  all-divells,  tell 

me, 

Had  you  none  to  pull  on  with  your  courtesies, 
But   he   that   must   be    mine,  and    wrong    my 

daughter  ?  i45 

By  all  the  gods,  all  these,  and  all  the  pages, 
And  all  the  court  shall  hoote  thee  through  the 

court, 

Fling  rotten  oranges,  make  riba'd  rimes, 
And  scare  thy  name  with  candles  upon  walls  ! 
Doe  ye  laugh,  lady  Venus  ?  150 

Meg.  Faith,  sir,  you  must  pardon  me  ; 
I  cannot  chuse  but  laugh  to  see  you  merry. 
If  you  doe  this,  O  King,  nay,  if  you  dare  doe  it, 
By  all  those  gods  you  swore  by,  and  as  many 
More  of  my  owne,  I  will  have  fellowes,  and 

such  155 

Fellowes  in  it  as  shall  make  noble  mirth  : 

139  a  pothicary.    Qi,   Apothecaries. 

143  all-hell.    Qi,  and  hell.    Hyphens  in  this  line  inserted  by  D. 

146  and.   Qi  omits.      148  riba'd.   Qi,  reball  ;  Q3-F,  ribald. 

ISO  ye.   Qi,Q4'39-F,  y°u- 

154  those.   Q6,   F,  these.          as.   Qi,  that. 


SCENE  IV.]  $ty\&$tet  21 7 

The  princesse,  your  deare  daughter,  shall  stand 

by  me 

On  walls,  and  sung  in  ballads,  any  thing. 
Urge  me  no  more  ;  I  know  her,  and  her  haunts, 
Her  layes,  leaps,  and  outlayes,  and  will  discover 

all ;  1 60 

Nay,  will  dishonor  her.    I  know  the  boy 
She  keepes,  a  handsome  boy,  about  eighteene ; 
Know  what  she  does  with  him,  where,  and  when. 
Come  sir,  you  put  me  to  a  womans  madnesse, 
The  glory  of  a  fury;  and  if  I  doe  not  165 

Doe  it  to  the  height  — 

King.  What  boy  is  this  she  raves  at  ? 

Meg,  Alas,  good-minded   prince,  you  know 

not  these  things ; 

I  am  loath  to  reveale  um.    Keepe  this  fault 
As  you  would  keepe  your  health  from  the  hot 

aire 

Of  the  corrupted  people;  or,  by  heaven,  I70 

I  will  not  fall  alone.    What  I  have  knowne, 
Shall  be  as  publique  as  a  print ;  all  tongues 
Shall  speake  it  as  they  doe  the  language  they 
Are  borne  in,  as  free  and  commonly ;  Fie  set  it 

158    On.   Qi,   Upon.          any.   Qi,  or  any. 

1 60  layes  .    .   .   outlayes.   Qi,  fayre  leaps  And  out-lying. 

161  Nay.  Qi,  and. 

163   Know.   Ql,  Knowes.          and.  Qi  omits. 

166  thit.  Qi,  that.  171  fall.  Qi,  sinke. 

172  a.  Qi,  in.  173-174  they  Are.   Qi,  they're. 


[ACTII. 

Like  a  prodigious  starre  for  all  to  gaze  at,  175 

And  so  high  and  glowing  that  other  kingdomes 

far  and  forraigne 
Shall  reade  it  there,  nay,  travaile  with  it,  till  they 

finde 

No  tongue  to  make  it  more,  nor  no  more  people ; 
And  then  behold  the  fall  of  your  faire  princesse. 
King.   Has  she  a  boy  ?  180 

Cle.  So  please  your  grace,  I  have  scene  a  boy 

wayte 
On  her,  a  faire  boy. 

King.  Go,  get  you  to  your  quarter  : 

For  this  time  I'le  studdy  to  forget  you. 

Meg.  Do  you  studdy  to  forget  me,  and  I'le 

studdy 
To  forget  you.  185 

Ex\euni\  K\ing\,  Meg\rd\,  \and~\  Guard. 
Cle.  Why  here's  a  male  spirit  fit  for  Hercu- 
les, if  ever  there  bee  nine  worthies  of  women,  this 
wench  shall  ride  astride,  and  be  their  captaine. 
Dion.  Sure,  she  has  a  garrison  of  divells  in  her 
tongue,  shee  uttered  such  balls  of  wild-fire.    She  190 

1 76  And  .    .   .  forraigne.   Th  omits  And  and  other. 

177  nay.   Qi  omits. 

181    Cle.    Qi,  "Leon."    D,  B,  end  line  with  on  her. 

l8a  quarter.    Qi,  quarters.  183   Pie.    W,  D,  B,  I  will. 

184-185   Do  .    .   .  forget  you.  Qi,    Do   so,   and    i'le    forget 

your — .  1 86   Why.  Qi  omits.       jit.    Q3-F  omit. 

187  -worthies.    Qi,  worthy.  -women.    Q3,  woman. 

1 88  astride.    Qi,  aside. 

189  has.    F,  hath.  190  uttered.    F,  uttereth. 


219 

has  so  netled  the  King,  that  all  the  doctors  in  the 
countrey  will  scarce  cure  him.  That  boy  was  a 
strange-found-out  antidote  to  cure  her  infection ; 
that  boy,  that  princesse'  boy ;  that  brave,  chaste, 
vertuous  ladies  boy;  and  a  faire  boy,  a  well  195 
spoken  boy  !  All  these  considered,  can  make 
nothing  else — but  there  I  leave  you,  gentlemen. 
Thra.  Nay,  weele  goe  wander  with  you. 

Exeunt. 

191  netled,  Qi,  Q4-F.    Qz,  Q3,  metled. 

192  scarce.    Qi,  not. 

193  infection,  Qq.— F.    Qi-Q3>  infections. 

194  brave,  chaste.    Qi,  chast,  brave. 
197  you.    Qi,  yee. 


ACTUS    3.      SCCENA    I. 
[The  Court  of  the  Pa lace. ] 

Enter  Cle\remonf\,  Di\pn  and~\   Tbra[siline~\. 

Cleremont.   Nay,  doubtlesse  tis  true. 

Dion.  I,  and  tis  the  gods 

That  raisde  this  punishment  to  scourge  the  King 
With  his  own  issue.    Is  it  not  a  shame 
For  us  that  should  write  noble  in  the  land,  5 

For  us  that  should  be  freemen,  to  behold 
A  man  that  is  the  bravery  of  his  age, 
Philaster,  prest  downe  from  his  royall  right 
By  this  regardlesse  king  ?  and  only  looke, 
And  see  the  scepter  ready  to  be  cast  10 

Into  the  hands  of  that  lascivious  lady 
That  lives  in  lust  with  a  smooth  boy,  now  to  be 
Married  to  yon  strange  prince ;  who,  but  that 

people 

Please  to  let  him  be  a  prince,  is  borne  a  slave 
In  that  which  should  be  his  most  noble  part,        15 
His  minde. 

Thrasiline.         That  man  that  would  not  stirre 
with  you 

Enter,  etc.    Qi,  Enter  three  Gentlemen.       i   Nay.    Qi,  And. 
5    For  us.    Qi,  for  all  us.        should.    Qi  omits. 
12-14.  That  •  •  •  ilf*>t'  W,  D,  B,  end  lines  with  married,  please, 
14  prince.    Qi,  thing. 


SCENE  I.]  $\)i\Z8ttt  221 

To  aide  Philaster,  let  the  gods  forget 

That  such  a  creature  walkes  upon  the  earth ! 

Cle.  Philaster  is  too  backward  in't  himselfe  ; 
The  gentry  doe  awaite  it,  and  the  people,  20 

Against  their  nature,  are  all  bent  for  him, 
And  like  a  field  of  standing  corne,  that's  moved 
With  a  stiffe  gale,  their  heads  bow  all  one  way. 

Dion.  The  onely  cause  that  drawes  Philaster 

backe 

From  this  attempt,  is  the  faire  princesse'  love,     25 
Which  he  admires,  and  we  can  now  confute. 

Thra.  Perhaps  he'le  not  beleeve  it. 

Dion.  Why,  gentlemen,  tis  without  question 
so. 

Cle.  I,  tis  past  speech,  she  lives  dishonestly. 
But  how  shall  we,  if  he  be  curious,  worke  30 

Upon  his  faith  ? 

Thra.  We  all  are  satisfied  within  our  selves. 

Dion.  Since  it  is  true,  and  tends  to  his  owne 

good, 

Pie  make  this  new  report  to  be  my  knowledge ; 
Tie  say  I  know  it;  nay,  I'le  sweare  I  saw  it.       35 

19  Philaster  .  .  .  himselfe.  Qi  omits.  21  tent.  Qi  omits. 
2Z  of.  Qi,  if.  that's.  Qi  omits.  24  drcrwes.  Qi,  draweth. 
26  confute.  Qi,  comfort.  27  it.  Qi  omits. 

27-31    Perhaps  .    .   .  faith.    D    ends    lines    with    gentlemen, 
speech,  shall  ive,  faith. 

28  Dion.    Qi,  "Cle."  29   Cle.     Qi,  "Leon." 

31   Upon  his  faith.    Qi,  on  his  beleefe. 

33  tends.    Qi,  Lords.  35   nay.    Qi  omits. 


222  p&ilatfter  [ACT  m. 

Cle.  It  will  be  best. 

Tbra.  Twill  move  him 

Enter  Pbilas\ter~\. 

Dion.  Here  he  comes. 

Good  morrow  to  your  honor :    we  have  spent 
Some  time  in  seeking  you. 

Pbilaster.  My  worthy  friends, 

You  that  can  keepe  your  memories  to  know 
Your  friend  in  miseries,  and  cannot  frowne 
On  men  disgrac'd  for  vertue,  a  good  day 
Attend  you  all.    What  service  may  I  do 
Worthy  your  acceptation  ? 

Dion.  My  good  lord, 

We  come  to  urge  that  vertue,  which  we  know 
Lives  in  your  breast,  forth.    Rise,  and  make  a 

head; 

The  nobles  and  the  people  are  all  dull'd 
With  this  usurping  king;  and  not  a  man 
That  ever  heard  the  word,  or  knew  such  a  thing 
As  vertue,  but  will  second  your  attempts. 

36-38   It  "will  .   .    .  friends.   B's  verse-division.    Qq,  F,  end 
lines  with  best,  him,  honor,  you,  friends. 

Enter  Philaster.    Qi-Q4  print  after  be  best. 

36  Dion.    Qi,  "Cle." 

40-41  fro-wne  .   . . .   disgraced.    Qi,  frame  .   .   .   disgrace. 

43  good.    Qi  omits. 

45  breast,  forth.    Rise.    Qq,  F,  breast,  forth,  rise. 

46  duird.    Qi,  dull. 

48  or  knew,  Q3-F.    Qi,  knowes  ;  Qz,  or  knowne ;  B  (qy.), 
or  knows. 


i.]  pbilaater  223 

Phi.  How  honourable  is  this  love  in  you          50 
To  me  that  have  deserv'd  none!    Know,  my 

friends, 
(You  that  were  borne  to  shame  your  poore  Phi- 

laster, 

With  too  much  courtesie)  I  could  affoord 
To  melt  my  selfe  in  thankes  ;  but  my  designes 
Are  not  yet  ripe.    Suffice  it,  that  ere  long  55 

I  shall  imploy  your  loves :  but  yet  the  time 
Is  short  of  what  I  would. 

Dion.  The  time  is  fuller,  sir,  then  you  expect ; 
That    which    hereafter    will    not,    perhaps,   be 

reach'd 
By  violence,  may  now  be  caught.    As  for  the 

King,  60 

You  know  the  people  have  long  hated  him ; 
But  now  the  princesse,  whom  they  lov'd  — 

Phi.  Why,  what  of  her  ? 

Dion.  Is  loath'd  as  much  as  he. 

Phi.  By  what  strange  meanes  ? 

Dion.  She's  knowne  a  whore. 

Phi.  Thou  liest ! 

Dion.  My  lord  —  65 

51  deserv 'd  none.    Qi,  deserved  more. 

54  in  thankes,  Q4-F.    Qi,  Qa,  to  thankes  ;  Q3,  in  thlnkes. 

55  Suffice  it.    Qi,  sufficient.  58  sir.  Qi  omits. 
59  will  not.    Qi  omits. 

6 1   have  long.    Qi,  long  have.  63  Dion.    Qi,  "Tra." 

64  Phi.  Thou.    Qa  misprints  Di.   Thou. 


224  &ilaster  [ACT  m. 


Phi.  Xhou  liest,         Q/ers  to  draw,  and  is  held. 
And  thou  shall  feele  it  !  I  had  thought  thy  minde 
Had  beene  of  honour.    Thus  to  rob  a  lady 
Of  her  good  name,  is  an  infectious  sinne, 
Not  to  be  pardon'd.    Be  it  false  as  hell,  70 

Twill  never  be  redeem'd,  if  it  be  sowne 
Amongst  the  people,  fruitfull  to  increase 
All  evill  they  shall  heare.    Let  me  alone, 
That  I  may  cut  off  falshood  whilst  it  springs  ! 
Set  hills  on  hills  betwixt  me  and  the  man  75 

That  utters  this,  and  I  will  scale  them  all, 
And  from  the  utmost  top  fall  on  his  necke 
Like  thunder  from  a  clowd. 

Dion.  This  is  most  strange  ; 

Sure  he  does  love  her. 

Phi.  I  doe  love  faire  truth  : 

She  is  my  mistrisse,  and  who  injures  her  80 

Drawes  vengeance  from  me.    Sirs,  let  goe  my 
armes. 

Thra.  Nay,  good  my  lord,  be  patient. 

Cle.  Sir,  remember  this  is  your  honor'd  friend, 
That  comes  to  doe  his  service,  and  will  shew  you 
Why  he  utter'd  this. 

Phi.  I  aske  you  pardon,  sir,        85 

68    Thus.    Q  i,  then.  ^fruitful!.    Qi,  faithfull. 

74  off  .    .   .  springs.    Qi,  out  falsehood  where  it  growes. 

75  '*"•    Qi»  that. 

So  injures.    Qi,  injuries.  85  you.    Qi,  your. 


i.]  p&tlaster  225 

My  zeale  to  truth  made  me  unmannerly  : 
Should  I  have  heard  dishonour  spoke  of  you, 
Behind  your  backe  untruely,  I  had  beene 
As  much  distemperd  and  enrag'd  as  now. 

Dion.  But  this,  my  lord,  is  truth.  90 

Phi.   O,  say  not  so,  good  sir,  forbeare  to  say  so; 
Tis  then  truth  that  woman-kind  is  false ; 
Urge  it  no  more,  it  is  impossible. 
Why  should  you  thinke  the  princesse  light  ? 

Dion.  Why,  she  was  taken  at  it.  95 

Phi.  Tis  false  !   by  heaven,  tis  false  !   it  can- 
not be ! 
Can   it  ?     Speake,  gentlemen ;    for  Gods  love, 

speake ! 

1st  possible  ?  can  women  all  be  damn'd  ? 
Dion.  Why  no,  my  lord. 
Phi.  Why  then,  it  cannot  be. 

Dion.  And  she  was  taken  with  her  boy. 
Phi.  What  boy  ?  100 

Dion.  A  page,  a  boy  that  serves  her. 

86  made.    Qi,  makes.  88  backe.    Qi,  backs. 

90-95    But  this  .   .    .   at  it.    Verse-division  of  Q^-F.    W,  D, 
end  lines  with  not  so,  truth,  no  more,  thinke,  at  it. 

92  Tis  .    .   .  false.    Qi,   tis    then    truth   that  women  all    are 
false.    Q4*34,  thee  truth.    Q4'39~F,  all  womenkind. 

93  it  is.    Qi,  tis.  96  by.    Q4-F,  O. 
97-98  for  .    .    .  possible.    Qi  omits. 

97   Gods  love.    Q4-F,  D,  love  of  truth. 

99  Dion.    Why  .    .    .   lord.    Q I  omits  this  speech  and  gives  the 
next  to  "Tra."  100  Dion.    Qi,"Cle." 


226  oster  [ACT  m- 


Phi.  Oh,  good  gods  ! 

A  little  boy  ? 

Dion.  I,  know  you  him,  my  lord  ? 

Phi.  Hell  and  sinne  know  him!  —  Sir,  you  are 

deceiv'd  : 

I'le  reason  it  a  little  coldly  with  you  ; 
If  she  were  lustfull,  would  she  take  a  boy,          105 
That  knowes  not  yet  desire  ?    she  would  have 

one 
Should  meete  her  thoughts,  and  know  the  sinne 

he  acts, 

Which  is  the  great  delight  of  wickednesse. 
You  are  abusd,  and  so  is  she,  and  I. 
Dion.   How  you,  my  lord  ? 

Phi.  Why,  all  the  world's  abusdeno 

In  an  unjust  report. 

Dion.  Oh,  noble  sir,  your  vertues 

Cannot  looke  into  the  subtle  thoughts  of  woman. 
In  short,  my  lord,  I  tooke  them  ;  I  my  selfe. 
Phi.  Now  all  the  divells  thou  didst  !   Flie  from 

my  rage  ! 

Would  thou  hadst  tane  divells  ingendring  plagues,  115 
When  thou  didst  take  them  !    Hide  thee  from 
mine  eyes  ; 

104  coldly.    Qi,  milder.  106   desire.    Qi,  desires. 

107  know.    Q4--F,  knows.  he.    Qi,  she. 

no  Dion.    Qi,  "Cle."  na  "woman.    Qi,  women. 

116  mine.    Q^-F,  my. 


SCENE  I.]  ^il^&ttt  22J 

Would  thou  hadst  taken  thunder  on  thy  breast, 
When  thou  didst  take  them ;  or  been  strucken 

dumbe 

For  ever ;  that  this  foule  deed  might  have  slept 
In  silence ! 

Thra.        Have  you  knowne  him  so  ill  tem- 

perd  ?  120 

Cle.  Never  before. 

Phi.  The  winds  that  are  let  loose, 

From  the  four  several  corners  of  the  earth, 
And  spread  themselves  all  over  sea  and  land, 
Kisse  not  a  chaste  one.    What  friend  beares  a 

sword 

To  runne  me  through  ?  125 

Dion.  Why,  my  lord,  are  you  so  mov'd  at 

this? 

Phi.  When  any  fall  from  vertue,  I  am  dis- 
tracted ; 
I  have  an  interest  in't. 

117  taken.    Q2,  tane.         thunder  on.    Q  I,  daggers  in. 

118  didst.    Q3,  did.         strucken.    Qi,  stuacke. 

119  foule  deed.    Qi,  fault. 

I 20-1 2 I    Thra.   .   .   .    Cle.    Q  i  transposes  the  speakers. 

122  several.   Qi  omits. 

123  spread  themselves.   Qi,   spreads  them  selfe. 

124  Kisse  not  a  chaste  one.  Qi,   Meetes  not  a  fayre  on. 
125—8    To  runne  .  .  in't.  Dends  lines  with  are  you,  -vertue,  in't. 

125  through.  Qi,   thorow  ;  D,  B,  thorough. 

126  Dion.   Qi,   "Tra." 

1 27  fall.  Q4'39-F,  falls.         distracted.  Q4-F,   D,  distract. 

128  an.   Qi  omits. 


228  pilaster  [ACT  m. 

Dion.   But,  good  my  lord,  recall  your  selfe, 

and  thinke 
What's  best  to  be  done. 

Phi.  I  thank  youe;  I  will  doe  it.  130 

Please  you  to  leave  me,  I'le  consider  of  it : 
Tomorrow  I  will  finde  your  lodging  forth, 
And  give  you  answer. 

Dion.  All  the  gods  direct  you 

The  readiest  way ! 

Thra.  He  was  extreame  impatient. 

Cle.  It  was  his  vertue  and  his  noble  minde.    135 
Exit  Di  \pn\   Cle  \remont  and~\  Thra  \siline\  . 

Phi.  I  had  forgot  to  aske  him  where  he  took 

them  ; 

I'le  follow  him.    O  that  I  had  a  sea 
Within  my  breast,  to  quench  the  fire  I  feele ! 
More  circumstances  will  but  fan  this  fire : 
It  more  afflicts  me  now,  to  know  by  whom         140 
This  deed  is  done,  then  simply  that  tis  done ; 

129—130  But  .  .  .  done.    Verse-division  of  W,  D,  B.    Qq,  F, 
end  1.  129  with  your  selfe. 

130  doe  it.   Qi,  do't. 

132   / "will.  Qi,  He.    lodging.   Q I,  lodgings,  fort h.   Q I  omits. 

I33~I34  Dion.   All  .  .  .  -way.   Qi  has  "  Omnes  "   for  Dion, 
and  adds  "Exit  Three  Gent."  Q4'39~F  print: 

The  readiest  way. 
Di.  All  the  gods  direct  you. 

134-135    Thra.    .   .   .   minde.   Qi  omits. 

136  Aim.   Qi,  um.        them.    Qi,  her. 

139  will  but  fan.   Qi,  would  but  flame. 

141    This.   Qi,  the.        tis.   Qi,  it  is. 


SCENE  I.]  ^H^ttt  22() 

And  he  that  tells  me  this,  is  honourable, 
As  farre  from  lies  as  she  is  farre  from  truth. 
O  that,  like  beasts,  we  could  not  grieve  our  selves 
With  that  we  see  not !    Bulls  and  rams  will  fight  145 
To  keepe  their  females,  standing  in  their  sight; 
But  take  um  from  them,  and  you  take  at  once 
Their  spleenes  away  ;  and  they  will  fall  againe 
Unto  their  pastures,  growing  fresh  and  fat, 
And  taste  the  waters  of  the  springs  as  sweete      150 
As  twas  before ;  finding  no  start  in  sleepe. 
But  miserable  man  — 

Enter  Bellario 

See,  see,  you  gods  ! 

He  walkes  still ;  and  the  face  you  let  him  weare 
When  he  was  innocent  is  still  the  same, 
Not  blasted.    Is  this  justice  ?    Doe  you  meane    155 
To  entrap  mortality,  that  you  allow 
Treason  so  smooth  a  brow  ?    I  cannot  now 
Thinke  he  is  guilty. 

Bellario.  Health  to  you,  my  lord  ! 

The  princesse  doth  commend  her  love,  her  life, 
And  this,  unto  you.  [He  gives  him  a  letter.] 

Phi.  Oh,  Bellario,  160 

147  um.   Qi,  them.  150  springs.   Q5a,  spring. 

Enter  Bellario.    Qz-F   print  after  gods.    Qi,    "Enter  boy" 
after  man. 

155   blasted.   Qi,  blush. 

He  gives  .    .    .  letter.    Only  Qi. 


230  p&ilaster  [ACT  m. 

Now  I  perceive  she  loves  me !  she  does  shew  it 
In  loving  thee,  my  boy ;  she  has  made  thee  brave. 

Bell.   My  lord,  she  has  attir'd  me  past  my  wish, 
Past  my  desert ;  more  fit  for  her  attendant, 
Though  far  unfit  for  me  who  doe  attend.  165 

Phi.  Thou  art  growne  courtly,  boy.  —  O,  let 

all  women 

That  love  blacke  deeds  learne  to  dissemble  here, 
Here,  by  this  paper !    She  does  write  to  me 
As  if  her  heart  were  mines  of  adamant 
To  all  the  world  besides  ;  but  unto  me,  170 

A  maiden  snow  that  melted  with  my  lookes. 
Tell  me,  my  boy,  how  doth  the  princesse  use 

thee  ? 
For  I  shall  guesse  her  love  to  me  by  that. 

Bell.  Scarce  like  her  servant,  but  as  if  I  were 
Something  allyed  to  her,  or  had  preserv'd  175 

Her  life  three  times  by  my  fidelity ; 
As  mothers  fond  doe  use  there  onely  sonnes, 
As  Fde  use  one  that's  left  unto  my  trust, 
For  whom  my  life  should  pay  if  he  met  harme, 
So  she  does  use  me. 

Phi.  Why,  this  is  wondrous  well :  i  go 

But  what  kinde  language  does  she  feede  thee  with  ? 

163   my.   Qi  omits.      165  Though.  Qi,  But.       -who.  Qi,  that. 

1 66  boy.   Qi,  my  boy.  1 68  by.   Qi,  with. 

169  mines.   Qi,  twines.  17*  doth.   Qi,  dos. 

173   For  .   .   .  that.  Qi  omits.  179  met.  Qi,  meete. 
1 80  this  is.  Qi,   tis. 


SCENE  I.]  $ty\&8ttt  231 

Bell.  Why,  she  does  tell  me,  she  will  trust 

my  youth 

With  all  her  loving  secrets,  and  does  call  me 
Her  pretty  servant ;  bids  me  weepe  no  more 
For  leaving  you ;  sheele  see  my  services  185 

Regarded ;  and  such  words  of  that  soft  strain, 
That  I  am  neerer  weeping  when  she  ends 
Than  ere  she  spake. 

Phi.  This  is  much  better  still. 

Bell.  Are  you  not  ill,  my  lord  ? 

Phi.  111?    No,  Bellario. 

Bell.  Me  thinkes  your  words  19° 

Fall  not  from  off  your  tongue  so  evenly, 
Nor  is  there  in  your  lookes  that  quietnesse 
That  I  was  wont  to  see. 

Phi.  Thou  art  deceivd,  boy  : 

And  she  strokes  thy  head  ? 

Bell.  Yes. 

Phi.  And  she  does  clap  thy  cheekes  ? 

Bell.  She  does,  my  lord.  195 

Phi.  And  she  does  kisse  thee,  boy  ?  ha  ? 

Bell.  How,  my  lord  ? 

183  loving  secrets.  Qi,  maiden  store. 

185  services.   Qi,  service.          186  Regarded.  Qi,  rewarded. 

1 88  spake.   Qi,  speakes. 

189  not  ill.    Qi,  not  well.   Q6,   F,  omit  not. 

191  Fall .  .  .  evenly.   Qi,  fall  out  from  your  tongue,  so  unevenly. 

192  quietnesse.   Qi,   quicknesse. 

193  deceived,  Qi.  Q^-F,  deceiv'd. 


232  pilaster  ACT  m. 

Phi.  She  kisses  thee  ? 

Bell.  Never,  my  lord,  by  heaven  ! 

Phi.  That's  strange :  I  know  she  does. 

Bell.  No,  by  my  life ! 

Phi.  Why  then  she  does  not  love  me.    Come, 

she  does  : 

I  bad  her  doe  it.    I  charg'd  her  by  all  charmes    200 
Of  love  betweene  us,  by  the  hope  of  peace 
We  should  enjoy,  to  yeeld  thee  all  delights 
Naked  as  to  her  bed  :  I  tooke  her  oath 
Thou  shouldst  enjoy  her.    Tell  me,  gentle  boy, 
Is  she  not  parrallesse  ?    Is  not  her  breath  205 

Sweete  as  Arabian  winds  when  fruits  are  ripe? 
Are  not  her  breasts  two  liquid  ivory  balls  ? 
Is  she  not  all  a  lasting  mine  of  joy  ? 

Bell.  I,  now  I  see  why  my  disturbed  thoughts 
Were  so  perplext.    When  first  I  went  to  her,    210 
My  heart  held  augury.    You  are  abusde, 
Some  villaine  has  abusde  you :   I  doe  see 
Whereto  you  tend.    Fall  rocks  upon  his  head 
That  put  this  to  you !  tis  some  subtile  traine 
To  bring  that  noble  frame  of  yours  to  nought.   215 

197  Never  .   .    .   hea-ven.   Q4-F,  D,  Not  so,  my  lord. 

198  That's  strange.   Q4~F,   D,   Come,  come. 
200  bad.   Qi,  bid.       doe  it.   Qi,  do't. 

202  delights.   Qi,  delight.  203   bed.   Qi,  Lord. 

205  parrallesse.   Qi,  paradise;  Q6,  F,  paralleless. 

209  /.   Qi,   Yes.       disturbed.  Qi,  discurled. 

211  augury.    Qi,   auguries. 

213  Whereto.  Q I,  where.  215  frame.   Qi,   friend. 


SCENE  I.]  ^tyfotittt  233 

Phi.  Thou  thinkst  I  will  be  angry  with  thee. 

Come, 

Thou  shalt  know  all  my  drift ;  I  hate  her  more 
Than  I  love  happinesse,  and  placed  thee  there 
To  prye  with  narrow  eyes  into  her  deeds. 
Hast  thou  discovered  ?    Is  she  falne  to  lust,        22o 
As  I  would  wish  her  ?    Speake  some  comfort  to 
me. 

Bell.  My  lord,  you  did  mistake  the  boy  you 

sent : 

Had  she  the  lust  of  sparrowes,  or  of  goates  ; 
Had  she  a  sinne  that  way,  hid  from  the  world, 
Beyond  the  name  of  lust,  I  would  not  aide         225 
Her  base  desires  :  but  what  I  came  to  know 
As  servant  to  her,  I  would  not  reveale, 
To  make  my  life  last  ages. 

Phi.  Oh,  my  heart ! 

This  is  a  salve  worse  then  the  maine  disease. — 
Tell  me  thy  thoughts  ;  for  I  will  know  the  least  230 
That  dwells  within  thee,  or  will  rip  thy  heart 
To  know  it ;  I  will  see  thy  thoughts  as  plaine 
As  I  doe  now  thy  face. 

Bell.  Why,  so  you  doe. 

She  is  (for  ought  I  know),  by  all  the  gods, 
As  chaste  as  ice ;  but  were  she  foule  as  hell,      235 

219  narrow.   Qi,  sparrowes.  223  or.     Qi,  and. 

224  way,  hid.   Qi,  weighed.  226  came.    Qi,   come. 

229  disease.   Qi,   deceit.  233  no-w.   F,  know. 


234  l^atfter  [ACT  m. 

And  I  did  know  it  thus,  the  breath  of  kings, 
The    points   of   swords,  tortures,  nor   buls   of 

brasse, 
Should  draw  it  from  me. 

Phi.  Then  it  is  no  time 

To  dally  with  thee ;   I  will  take  thy  life, 
For  I  doe  hate  thee  :  I  could  curse  thee  now.     240 

Bell.  If  you  doe  hate,  you  could  not  curse  me 

worse ; 

The  gods  have  not  a  punishment  in  store 
Greater  for  me  then  is  your  hate. 

Phi.  Fie,  fie, 

So  young  and  so  dissembling !  tell  me  when 
And  where  thou  didst  enjoy  her,  or  let  plagues  245 
Fall  upon  me,  if  I  destroy  thee  not  ! 

[He  drawes  bis  sword.~^ 

Bell.  By  heaven,  I  never  did  :   and  when  I  lie 
To  save  my  life,  may  I  live  long  and  loath'd  ! 
Hew  me  asunder,  and  whilst  I  can  thinke 

238—240  Should  .  .  .  now.  Verse-division  of  Th,  W,  D,  B. 
Qi  ends  lines  with  from  me,  life,  noiv  ;  Q2~ Q4>  from  mei  with 
thee,  hate  thee,  noiv  ,•  Q5,  Q6,  with  thee,  now  ;  F,from  me,  -with 
thee, .  now. 

238  draw.   Qi,   wrack.        it  is,  Qi.   Qz—F,  tis. 

241   hate.   Qi,  hate  me. 

243    Greater.   Qi  omits.        for.   Qi,  to. 

243-246  Fie  .  .  .  thee  not.  Verse-division  of  Th,  W,  D,  B. 
Qi  ends  lines  with  -where,  upon  me,  not ;  Qz-F,  dissembling,  her, 
not. 

246  upon,  Qi,  D.   Qz-F,  on.          He  .   .   .   sword,  only  Qi. 

247  By  heatien.  Q4-F,  Heaven  knows. 


SCENE  I.]  ^HSi&ttt  235 

I'le  love  those  pieces  you  have  cut  away  250 

Better  than  those  that    grow,  and  kisse  those 

limbes 
Because  you  made  um  so. 

Phi.  Fearst  thou  not  death  ? 

Can  boyes  contemne  that  ? 

Bell.  Oh,  what  boy  is  he 

Can  be  content  to  live  to  be  a  man, 
That  sees  the  best  of  men  thus  passionate,         255 
Thus  without  reason  ? 

Phi.  Oh,  but  thou  doest  not  know 

What  tis  to  dye. 

Bell.       «  Yes,  I  doe  know,  my  lord  : 

Tis  lesse  then  to  be  borne ;  a  lasting  sleepe, 
A  quiet  resting  from  all  jealousie, 
A  thing  we  all  persue  :   I  know,  besides,  *6o 

It  is  but  giving  over  of  a  game 
That  must  be  lost. 

Phi.          But  there  are  paines,  false  boy, 
For  perjur'd  soules ;  thinke  but  on  those,  and 

then 
Thy  heart  will  melt,  and  thou  wilt  utter  all. 

251  those  limbs.  Q6,  F,  these  limbs. 

252  Fearst.  Q4'39~F,  Fearest.  254   Can.   Qt,  could. 
156  but.  Qi  omits.     Qq,  F,  end  line  with  dye.         doest,  only 

Q*.  Qq.  F>  d°tf- 

261   over  of  a  game.     Qi,  ore  againe. 

263  those.   Q4-F,  D,  these. 

264  and  thou.      Qi,  and  then  thou. 


236  pilaster  [ACT  m. 

Bell.   May  they  fall  all  upon  me  whilst  I  live,  265 
If  I  be  perjur'd,  or  have  ever  thought 
Of  that  you  charge  me  with  !    If  I  be  false, 
Send  me  to  suffer  in  those  punishments 
You  speak  of:  kill  me  ! 

[Pbi.~\  Oh,  what  should  I  doe  ? 

Why,  who  can  but  beleeve  him  ?    He  does  sweare 270 
So  earnestly,  that  if  it  were  not  true, 
The  gods  would  not  endure  him.    Rise,  Bellario  : 
Thy  protestations  are  so  deepe,  and  thou 
Doest  looke  so  truely  when  thou  utterst  them, 
That,  though  I  know  um  false  as  were  my  hopes,  275 
I  cannot  urge  thee  further.    But  thou  wert 
Too  blame  to  injure  me,  for  I  must  love 
Thy  honest  lookes,  and  take  no  revenge  upon 
Thy  tender  youth.    A  love  from  me  to  thee 
Is  firme,  what  e're  thou  doest :   it  troubles  me    280 
That  I  have  call'd  the  blood  out  of  thy  cheekes, 
That  did  so  well  become  thee.    But,  good  boy, 
Let  me  not  see  thee  more ;   something  is  done 
That  will  distract  me,  that  will  make  me  mad, 
If  I  behold  thee.    If  thou  tenderst  me,  285 

Let  me  not  see  thee. 

269  Phi.    Q2  omits  by  mistake. 

274  Doest.   Qi,  Qs,  Q6,  F,  dost.       utterst,    Q2,  Q6,  uttrest. 
Other  Qq,  F,  utterest. 

275  know.    F,  known.       279  tender  youth.   Qi,  honest  lookes. 

280  doest,  only  Q2.    Other  Qq,  F,  dost. 

281  the  blood.   Qi,  thy  blood,  282  thee.    B(qy. ),  them. 
285   tenderst.  Qi,  tenderest. 


ii.]  pilaster  237 

Bell.  I  will  flie  as  farre 

As  there  is  morning,  ere  I  give  distaste 
To  that  most  honor'd  mind.    But  through  these 

teares 

Shed  at  my  hopelesse  parting,  I  can  see 
A  world  of  treason  practisde  upon  you,  290 

And  her,  and  me.    Farewel  for  ever  more  ! 
If  you  shall  heare  that  sorrow  strucke  me  dead, 
And  after  finde  me  loyall,  let  there  be 
A  teare  shed  from  you  in  my  memory, 
And  I  shall  rest  at  peace.  Exit  Bell\ario\. 

Phi.  Blessing  be  with  thee,295 

What  ever  thou  deservest !  —  Oh,  where  shall  I 
Goe  bathe  this  body  ?    Nature  too  unkinde, 
That  made  no  medicine  for  a  troubled  minde ! 

Ex  [it]  P  blaster']. 

[SCENE   II. 

Aretbusa's  Apartment  in  the  Palace.~\ 
Enter  Aretbusa. 

drethusa.  I  marvaile  my  boy  comes  not  backe 
againe ; 

288  mind.   Qi,  frame. 

289  hopelesse.   Qi,  haplesse.  292  sorrow.   Qi,  sorrowes. 

296  ever.    Qi,  ere.  deservest,  Qi-QS-    Q5at  deserv'd. 
Q4,  Q5b,  Q6,  F,  deserv'st. 

297  bathe.   Q4-F,  bath.  this.   Q6,  F,  thy. 

298  made.   Qi,  mad'st.  for.   Qi,  to. 

Enter  Arethusa.   Qi,  Princesse,  and  "Prin"  for  Are.  through- 
out the  scene.  I   againe.  Qi  omits. 


238  p^ilasftri:  [ACT  in. 


But  that  I  know  my  love  will  question  him 
Over  and  over,  how  I  slept,  wak'd,  talk'd  ; 
How  I  remembred  him  when  his  deare  name 
Was  last  spoke,  and  how,  when  I  sigh'd,  wept, 

sung,  5 

And  ten  thousand  such;  I  should  be  angry  at 
his  stay. 

Enter  King. 
King.  What,  at  your  meditations  ?    Who  at- 

tends you  ? 
Are.  None  but  my  single  selfe  ;  I  neede  no 

guard; 
I  doe  no  wrong,  nor  feare  none. 

King.  Tell  me,  have  you  not  a  boy  ? 
Are.  Yes  sir.   10 

King.  What  kinde  of  boy  ? 
Are.  A  page,  a  wayting  boy. 

King.  A  handsome  boy  ? 
Are.  I  thinke  he  be  not  ugly  : 

Well  quallified,  and  dutifull,  I  know  him  ; 
I  tooke  him  not  for  beauty. 

King.  He  speakes,  and  sings  and  playes  ? 

Are.  Yes  sir.  15 

3  -waVd,  tallCd.    Qi,  make  talke. 

4  remembred.    Qi,  remember. 

5  spoke  .   .   .  sung.    Qi,  spoken,  And  how  spoke  when  I  sight 
song. 

7  at.    Qi,  in  ;  Qsa,  of;  Q6,  F,  are. 
I  a  ugly.    Qi,  B,  ugly,  sir. 


ii.]  pilaster  239 

King.  About  eighteene  ? 

Are.  I  never  ask'd  his  age. 

King.  Is  he  full  of  service  ? 

Are.  By  your  pardon,  why  doe  you  aske  ? 

King.  Put  him  away. 

Are.  Sir  ? 

King.  Put  him  away  I  say. 

H'as  done  you  that  good  service  shames  me  to 

speake  of.  ao 

Are.  Good  sir,  let  me  understand  you. 

King.  If  you  feare  me, 

Shew  it  in  duty ;  put  away  that  boy. 

Are.  Let  me  have  reason  for  it,  sir,  and  then 
Your  will  is  my  command. 

King.  Doe  not  you  blush  to  aske  it  ?    Cast 

him  off,  25 

Or  I  shall  doe  the  same  to  you.    Y'are  one 
Shame  with  me,  and  so  neere  unto  my  selfe, 
That,  by  my  life,  I  dare  not  tell  my  selfe, 
What  you,  my  selfe,  have  done. 

Are.  What  have  I  done,  my  lord  ?  30 

King.  Tis  a  new  language,  that  all  love  to 
learn : 

19  I  say,  only  Qi,  Qz.  23  sir.    Qi  omits. 

*4  *y.    Qi,  a. 

26  the  same.    Qi,  that  shame.         Y'are.    Qi,  ye  are. 

27  unto.    Qi  omits. 

28  my  life.    Qi,  the  gods.       I  dare.    Qi,  I'd  dare. 

30  have  I,  Qi,  Q3-F.    Q2,  I  have.         my  lord.    Qi  omits. 


240  &ilatfter  [ACT  m. 


The  common  people  speake  it  well  already  ; 
They  need  no  grammer.    Understand  me  well, 
There  be  foule  whispers  stirring.    Cast  him  off, 
And  suddenly  ;  doe  it  !    Farewell.       Exit  King.  35 

Are.  Where  may  a  maiden  live  securely  free, 
Keeping  her  honour  faire  ?    Not  with  the  living  ; 
They  feede  upon  opinions,  errours,  dreames, 
And  make  um  truths  ;  they  draw  a  nourishment 
Out  of  defamings,  grow  upon  disgraces,  40 

And  when  they  see  a  vertue  fortefied 
Strongly  above  the  battry  of  their  tongues, 
Oh,  how  they  cast  to  sinke  it  !  and  defeated, 
(Soule  sicke  with  poison)  strike  the  monuments 
Where  noble  names  lie  sleeping,  till  they  sweat,  45 
And  the  cold  marble  melt. 

Enter  Pbilaster. 

Philaster.  Peace  to  your  fairest  thoughts,  deer- 
est  mistresse. 

Are.  Oh,  my  deerest  servant,  I  have  a  warre 
within  me. 

Phi.   He  must  be  more  then  man  that  makes 

these  christals 

Run  into  rivers.    Sweetest  faire,  the  cause  ?          50 
And  as  I  am  your  slave,  tied  to  your  goodnesse, 

36  maiden.    Qi,  maid.          37  faire.    Q4-F,  safe. 

39  truths.    Qi,  truth.  43  cast.    Qi,  mind. 

44  Souk.    Qi,  foule.  strike  the  monuments.     Qi,  stricke 
the  mountaines. 

45  lie.    Qi,  be.  47  deerest.    Th,  B,  my  dearest. 


ii.]  pilaster  241 

Your  creature,  made  againe  from  what  I  was, 
And  newly  spirited,  Fie  right  your  honor. 

Are.   Oh,  my  best  love,  that  boy  ! 

Phi.  What  boy  ? 

Are.  The  pretty  boy  you  gave  me. 

Phi.  What  of  him  ?  55 

Are.  Must  be  no  more  mine. 

Phi  Why  ? 

Are.  They  are  jealous  of  him. 

Phi.  Jealous,  who  ? 

Are.  The  King. 

Phi.  \aside\ .  Oh,  my  misfortune  ! 

Then  tis  no  idle  jealousie.  —  Let  him  goe. 

Are.  Oh,  cruel ! 
Are  you  hard  hearted  too  ?  who  shall  now  tell 

you,  6o 

How  much  I  lovd  you  ?  who  shal  sweare  it  to 

you, 
And  weepe  the  teares  I  send  ?    Who  shall  now 

bring  you 

Letters,   rings,   bracelets  ?   loose   his   health  in 
service  ? 

53   ^'^-    Q4'39~Q6,  He.         honor.    Q6,  F,  honours. 

57  my  misfortune,  Qi,  B.    Ql,  my  my  fortune  ;  Q4~ F,  D,  my 
fortune. 

58  Aim.    Q5a,  me. 

59—69  Oh,  cruel  .  .  .  Philaster.  Verse-division  as  in  Th,  W, 
D,  B.  Qq,  F,  end  lines  with  too,  you,  send,  bracelets,  nights,  sing, 
soule,  mourne,  ill,  eye-lids,  Philaster. 

6z  you.    Q6,  your. 


242  l^ilatfter  [ACT  m. 

Wake  tedious  nights  in  stories  of  your  praise  ? 
Who  shall  [now]  sing  your  crying  elegies  ?         65 
And  strike  a  sad  soule  into  senseless  pictures, 
And  make  them  mourne  ?    Who  shall  take  up 

his  lute, 

And  touch  it,  till  he  crowne  a  silent  sleepe 
Upon  my  eye-lids,  making  me  dreame,  and  cry, 
"  Oh  my  deere,  deare  Philaster  "  ? 

Phi.  [aside] .  Oh  my  heart !     70 

Would   he   had   broken   thee,  that   made   thee 

know 

This  lady  was  not  loyall !  —  Mistrisse, 
Forget  the  boy,  Pie  get  thee  a  farre  better. 

Are.  Oh  never,  never  such  a  boy  againe 
As  my  Bellario ! 

Phi.  Tis  but  your  fond  affection.      75 

Are.  With  thee,  my  boy,  farewel  for  ever 
All  secrecy  in  servants !    Farewel  faith, 
And  all  desire  to  doe  well  for  it  selfe ! 
Let  all  that  shall  succeed  thee,  for  thy  wrongs, 
Sell  and  betray  chaste  love.  80 

Phi.  And  all  this  passion  for  a  boy  ? 

64   Wake.    Qi,  make.  65   now,    Qi,  D,  B. 

67  mourne.    Qi,  warme.  69  eye-lids.    Q4— F,  eye-lid. 

69  making.    Qi,  make. 

72-73    This  lady  .   .   .  better.     Dyce's  division.     Q^-F   end 
1.  72  with  forget.    Qi  ends  1.  72  with  lay  all,  and  1.  73  with  thee. 
73   thee.    Qi,  you.  77  secrecy.    Qi,  service. 

78  desire  .   .   .  it  selfe.    Qi,  desires  to  doe  well,  for  thy  sake. 


SCENE  II.]  {^latter  243 

Are.  He  was  your  boy,  and  you  put  him  to 

me, 
And  the  losse  of  such  must  have  a  mourning  for. 

Phi.  O  thou  forgetful]  woman ! 

Are.  How,  my  lord  ? 

Phi.  False  Arethusa  !  85 

Hast  thou  a  medicine  to  restore  my  wits, 
When  I  have  lost  um  ?    If  not,  leave  to  talke 
And  doe  thus. 

Are.  Doe  what,  sir  ?  would  you  sleepe  ? 

Phi.  For  ever,  Arethusa.    Oh  you  gods, 
Give  me  a  worthy  patience  !    Have  I  stood          90 
Naked,  alone,  the  shocke  of  many  fortunes  ? 
Have    I    scene    mischiefes    numberlesse    and 

mighty 

Growe  like  a  sea  upon  me  ?    Have  I  taken 
Danger  as  stern  as  death  into  my  bosome, 
And  laught  upon  it,  made  it  but  a  mirth,  95 

And  flung  it  by  ?    Do  I  live  now  like  him, 
Under  this  tyrant  King,  that  languishing 
Hears  his  sad  bell  and  sees  his  mourners  ?    Doe  I 
Beare  all  this  bravely,  and  must  sinke  at  length 

82  to.    Qi,  unto. 

89  Phi.    Qi   omits  by  mistake.       you  gods.    Qi,  ye  gods,  ye 
gods. 

90  -worthy.    Qi,  wealthy.  91   alone.    Qi,  Above. 
92  mischiefes.    Qi,  mischiefe.          93  like.    F,  live. 

94  stern.    Qi,  deepe.  96  flung.    Qi,  flowing. 

98   Hears.  Qi,  heare.  99  must.    Qi  omits. 


244  laster  [ACT  m. 


Under  a  womans  falshood  ?    Oh  that  boy,          *oo 
That  cursed  boy  ?    None  but  a  villaine  boy 
To  ease  your  lust  ? 

Are.  Nay,  then  I  am  betrayed. 

I  feele  the  plot  cast  for  my  overthrow. 
Oh,  I  am  wretched  ! 

Phi.  Now  you  may  take  that  little  right  I  have  105 
To  this  poor  kingdome  :  give  it  to  your  joy, 
For  I  have  no  joy  in  it.    Some  farre  place, 
Where  never  woman  kinde  durst  set  her  foote 
For  bursting  with  her  poisons,  must  I  seeke, 
And  live  to  curse  you  :  "° 

There  dig  a  cave,  and  preach  to  birds  and  beasts 
What  woman  is,  and  helpe  to  save  them  from 

you; 

How  heaven  is  in  your  eyes,  but  in  your  hearts 
More  hell  then  hell  has  ;    how  your  tongues, 

like  scorpions, 
Both  heale  and  poyson  ;  how  your  thoughts  are 

woven  "5 

With  thousand  changes  in  one  subtle  webbe, 
And  worne  so  by  you  ;  how  that  foolish  man, 
That  reades  the  story  of  a  womans  face, 

109  poisons.  Qi,  poyson. 

in  There.  Qi,  and  there.  birds  and  beasts.  Qi,  beasts 
and  birds. 

112  "woman  is.  Qi,  women  are.  and  helpe  .  .  .you.  Qi 
omits. 

117  so.    Qi  omits.         man.    Qi,  men. 

118  reades.  Qi,  reade. 


SCENE  II.]  ^fattM  245 

And  dies  beleeving  it,  is  lost  for  ever ; 

How  all  the  good  you  have  is  but  a  shaddow,     120 

I'th  morning  with  you,  and  at  night  behind  you, 

Past  and  forgotten ;  how  your  vowes  are  frosts, 

Fast  for  a  night,  and  with  the  next  sun  gone ; 

How  you  are,  being  taken  all  together, 

A  meere  confusion,  and  so  dead  a  chaos,  125 

That  love  cannot  distinguish.    These  sad  texts, 

Till  my  last  houre,  I  am  bound  to  utter  of  you. 

So  farewell  all  my  woe,  all  my  delight ! 

Exit  Pbi\Jaster~\. 

Are.  Be  mercifull,  ye  gods,  and  strike  me  dead ! 
What  way  have  I   deserv'd   this  ?     Make   my 

breast  13° 

Transparant  as  pure  christal,  that  the  world, 
Jealous  of  me,  may  see  the  foulest  thought 
My  heart  holds.    Where  shall  a  woman  turne 

her  eyes, 
To  finde  out  constancy  ? 

Enter  Bell\ario.~\ 

Save  me,  how  blacke 

And  guiltily,  me  thinkes  that  boy  lookes  now !    135 
Oh,  thou  dissembler,  that  before  thou  spak'st 

lit  frosts.    Q I,  frost.  129  ye.    QI>y°u;  QSa  omits. 

131   as  pure  christal.    Qi  omits  ;  Q3,  as  a  pure  christal. 

133  a  "woman  turne  her.    Qi,  women  turne  their. 

134  Enter  Bel/ario,  placed  as  in  Qi,  which  has,  "  Enter  boy." 
— F  place  entry  at  end  of  the  line. 

135  guiltily.    Q  I,  vile;  Q3-F,  guilty. 

136  spak'st.    Qi,  spokst ;  Q6,  speak'st. 


246  Blaster  [ACT  m. 

Wert  in  thy  cradle  false !  sent  to  make  lies, 

And  betray  innocents  !  thy  lord  and  thou 

May  glory  in  the  ashes  of  a  maid 

Foold  by  her  passion  ;  but  the  conquest  is          140 

Nothing  so  great  as  wicked.    Flie  away  ! 

Let   my   command    force    thee   to   that   which 

shame 

Would  do  without  it.    If  thou  understoodst 
The  loathed  office  thou  hast  undergone, 
Why,  thou  wouldst  hide  thee  under  heapes  of  hills,  145 
Least  men  should  dig  and  finde  thee. 

Bellario.  Oh,  what  god, 

Angry  with  men,  hath  sent  this  strange  disease 
Into  the  noblest  minds  ?    Madam,  this  griefe 
You  adde  unto  me  is  no  more  than  drops 
To  seas,  for  which  they  are  not  scene  to  swell :  150 
My  Lord  hath  strucke  his  anger  through  my 

heart, 

And  let  out  all  the  hope  of  future  joyes. 
You  need  not  bid  me  flye ;  I  came  to  part, 
To  take  my  latest  leave.    Farewell  for  ever ! 
I  durst  not  runne  away  in  honesty  155 

From  such  a  lady,  like  a  boy  that  stole, 
Or  made  some  grievous  fault.  The  power  of  gods 

138  betray  innocents.    Qi,  to  betray  innocence. 

139  May.    Qi,  Maist.  144  undergone.    Qi,  undertooke. 
146  men.    Qi,  we.                 147  men.    Qi,  me. 

151   hath.    Qi,  has;  F,  had. 

153    Tou.    Qi,  Ye.  157  grievous.    Qi,  greater. 


SCENE  II.]  ^HH^ttt  247 

Assist  you  in  your  sufferings  !  Hasty  time 

Reveale  the  truth  to  your  abused  lord 

And    mine,  that    he   may  know  your    worth ; 

whilst  I  160 

Goe  seeke  out  some  forgotten  place  to  dye ! 

Exit  Bell\ario\. 
Are.  Peace   guide   thee !     Thou    hast    over- 

throwne  me  once ; 
Yet  if  I  had  another  Troy  to  lose, 
Thou,  or  another  villaine  with  thy  lookes, 
Might  talke  me  out  of  it,  and  send  me  naked,     165 
My  haire  disheveld,  through  the  fiery  streetes. 

Enter  a  Lady. 
Lady.  Madam,  the    King  would   hunt,  and 

calls  for  you 
With  earnestnesse. 

Are.  I  am  in  tune  to  hunt ! 

Diana,  if  thou  canst  rage  with  a  maid 
As  with  a  man,  let  me  discover  thee  170 

Bathing,  and  turne  me  to  a  fearefull  hynde, 
That  I  may  dye  persued  by  cruell  hounds, 
And  have  my  story  written  in  my  wounds. 

Exeunt. 

158  sufferings.    Qi,  suffering. 

162  Thou  hast,  Qi.    Qa-F,  th'ast. 

163  Yet  .   .   .    Troy.    Qi,  but  ...  time. 
165  talke.    Qi,  take. 


ACTUS    4.     SCCENA    I. 
[Before  the  Palace.'} 

Enter  King,  Pbaramond,  Are  thus  a,  Galatea,  Megrat 
Dion,  Cleremont,  Tbrasilin,  and  Attendants. 

King.  What,  are  the  hounds  before,  and  all 

the  woodmen  ? 
Our  horses  ready,  and  our  bowes  bent  ? 

Dion.  All,  sir. 

King    \to   Pbaramond^.    Y'are   clowdy,  sir; 

come,  we  have  forgotten 
Your  veniall  trespasse ;  let  not  that  sit  heavy 
Upon  your  spirit ;  heres  none  dare  utter  it.  5 

Dion.  He  lookes  like  an  old  surfeited  stallion 
after  his  leaping,  dull  as  a  dormouse :  see  how 
he  sinks  ;  the  wench  has  shot  him  betweene 
winde  and  water,  and  I  hope  sprung  a  leake. 

Tbrasiline.    He  needes  no  teaching,  he  strikes  10 
sure  enough :  his  greatest  fault  is,  he  hunts  too 
much  in  the  purlues ;  would  hee  wod  leave  off 
poaching  ! 

Dion.  And  for  his  home,  has  left  it  at  the 

and  Attendants.    Qi ,  and  two  Wood-men. 

3  to  Pharamond,  D,  B.  Y'are.    Qi,  you  are. 

4  trespasse.   Qi,  trespasses. 

5  Acres.    Q4—  F  omit.          dare.    Qi,  dares. 

6  Dim.    Qi,  "Cle."  9  leake.    Qi,  lake. 


SCENE  I.]  H^tlatftet  249 


lodge  where  he  lay  late.    Oh,  hee's  a  pretious  15 
lyme-hound  !  turne  him  loose  upon  the  pursuit 
of  a  lady,  and  if  he  lose  her,  hang  him  up  i'th 
slip.    When  my  fox-bitch  Bewty  growes  proud, 
I'le  borrow  him. 

King.  Is  your  boy  turn'd  away  ?  20 

Aretbusa.  You  did  command  sir,  and  I  obeyd 
you. 

King.  Tis  well  done.    Harke  ye  furder. 

Cleremont.  Is't  possible  this  fellow  should  re- 
pent ?    Mee  thinkes  that  were  not  noble  in  him  ;  25 
and  yet  he  lookes  like  a  mortefied  member,  as 
if  hee  had  a  sicke  mans  salve  in's  mouth.    If 
a  worse  man  had  done  this  fault  now,  some 
physicall  justice  or  other  would  presently  (with- 
out the  helpe  of  an  almanacke)  have  opened  the  3° 
abstructions  of  his  liver,  and  let  him  blood  with 
a  dogge-whippe. 

Dion.  See,  see,  how  modestly  yon  lady  lookes, 
as  if  she  came  from  churching  with  her  neigh- 
bours !  Why,  what  a  divell  can  a  man  see  in  her  35 
face,  but  that  shee's  honest  ? 

15  pretious.    Qi,  pernitious. 

16  loose.    Qi  omits.         pursuit.    Qi-Q3,  pursue. 

17  a.    Qi,any. 

20-23   Is  .  .  .  furder.    D  prints  as  two  verse-lines,  ending  the 
first  with  sir.  21   obeyd.    F,  obey. 

24  Cleremont.  Qi,  "Leon,"  and  the  next  speech  to  "Tra." 
33  yon.  Qsb-F,  your.  34  neighbours.  Q3-F,  neighbour. 
35  a  man.  Qi,  you. 


250  pilaster  [ACT  iv. 

Thra.  F"aith,  no  great  matter  to  speake  of;  a 
foolish  twinckling  with  the  eye,  that  spoiles  her 
coate ;  but  hee  must  be  a  cunning  harald  that 
findes  it.  40 

Dion.  See  how  they  muster  one  another  !  O 
there's  a  rancke  regiment,  where  the  divell  car- 
ries the  colours,  and  his  dam  drum-major !  now 
the  world  and  the  flesh  come  behinde  with  the 
carriage.  45 

Cle.  Sure  this  lady  has  a  good  turne  done  her 
against  her  will ;  before  she  was  common  talke, 
now  none  dare  say  cantharides  can  stirre  her. 
Her  face  lookes  like  a  warrant,  willing  and  com- 
manding all  tongues,  as  they  will  answer  it,  to  50 
bee  tied  up  and  bolted  when  this  lady  meanes 
to  let  her  selfe  loose.  As  I  live,  shee  has  got  her 
a  goodly  protection,  and  a  gracious ;  and  may 
use  her  body  discreetely,  for  her  health  sake, 
once  a  weeke,  excepting  Lent  and  Dog-dayes.  55 
Oh,  if  they  were  to  bee  got  for  money,  what  a 

37   Thra.    Qi,  "Cle.";  Q4-F,  "Pha."          Faith.  Q4-F, 
Troth. 

41  Dion.    Qi,  "Tra."  and  the  following  speech  to  "Leon." 
one.    Qi,  on. 

42  regiment.    Qi,  regient.          43   dam.    Qi,  damn'd. 
44  the  "world  and  the  Jlesh.    Qi,  the  flesh  and  the  world. 
46  done  her.    Qi  omits  her.       48  dare.    Qi,  dares. 

52  her.    Qi  omits. 

54  health.    Q4'39~F,  D,  B,  health's. 

55  excepting.    Qi,  except. 


SCENE  II].  $\)ilSi*ttt  251 

large  sum  would  come  out  of  the  city  for  these 
licences  ! 

King.  To   horse,   to   horse !    we   loose   the 
morning,  gentlemen.  Exeunt.  60 

[SCENE   II. 

A  Forest."} 

Enter  two  Woodmen. 

1st    Woodman.    What,  have  you  lodged   the 
deere  ? 

2d  Woodman.  Yes,  they  are  ready  for  the  bow. 

1st  Wood.  Who  shootes  ? 

2nd  Wood.  The  princesse.  5 

1st  Wood.  No  shee'l  hunt. 

2nd  Wood.  Shee'l  take  a  stand,  I  say. 

1st  Wood.  Who  else  ? 

2nd  Wood.   Why,  the  young  stranger  prince. 

ist  Wood.  Hee  shall  shoote  in  a  stone  bow  10 
for  me.  I  never  lov'd  his  beyond-sea-ship  since 
hee  forsooke  the  say,  for  paying  ten  shillings. 
He  was  there  at  the  fall  of  a  deere,  and  would 
needes  (out  of  his  mightinesse)  give  ten  groates 
for  the  dowcets ;  marry,  his  steward  would  have  15 

57  larget  Qi,  Qx.    Q3-F,  D,  B,  great. 

Exeunt.    Qi,  Exit  King  and  Lords,  Manet  Wood-men, 
a  deere.    Qi,  Deere  below.  9  stranger.    Qi,  strange. 

15  doivccts.   Qi,  docets;  Q4'39-F,  dowcers. 

^">  G1-  QZ~F»  the.    would  have.    Q 5 -F,  would  have  had. 


252  Blaster  [ACTIV. 

the  velvet  head  into  the  bargaine,  to  turfe  his 
hat  withall :  I  thinke  he  should  love  venery,  he 
is  an  old  Sir  Tristram ;  for  if  you  be  remem- 
bred,  he  forsooke  the  stagge  once  to  strike  a 
raskall  miching  in  a  medow,  and  her  he  kild  in  ao 
the  eye.  Who  shootes  else  ? 

2nd  Wood.  The  lady  Galatea. 

ist  Wood.  That's  a  good  wench,  and  shee 
would  not  chide  us  for  tumbling  of  her  women 
in  the  brakes.  She's  liberall,  and,  by  the  gods,  25 
they  say  she's  honest,  and  whether  that  be  a 
fault  [or  no,]  I  have  nothing  to  doe.  There's 
all? 

2nd  Wood.  No,  one  more,  Megra. 

ist  Wood.  That's  a  firker,  I  faith,  boy.  There's  30 
a  wench  will  ride  her  haunches  as  hard  after 
a  kennell  of  hounds  as  a  hunting  saddle;  and 
when  she  comes  home,  get  um  clapt,  and  all  is 
well  againe.    I  have  knowne  her  lose  her  selfe 
three  times  in  one  afternoone  (if  the  woods  have  35 
beene  answerable),  and  it  has  been  worke  enough 
for  one  man  to  finde  her,  and  he  has  sweat  for 

18  it  an.    Qi,  and.  you,  Qi,  ye.          19  the.    Qi,  a. 

20  witching,  Th.  Qq,  F,  milking,  which  Boas  retains.  B  (qy^)» 

walking.  23  and.    Qi,  an. 

25  the  gods.    Q4-F,  D,  my  bow.             she's.    Qi  omits. 

27  or  no,  only  Qi.  34  have.    Qi,  Q6,  F,  had. 

36  it.    Qi  omits. 

37  ^<-    Q I  omits,  for  it.    Qi,  for't. 


SCENE  ii.]  pilaster  253 

it.    She  rides  well,  and  she  payes  well.    Harke, 
let's  goe.  Exeunt. 

Enter  Pbilaster. 
Pkilaster.  Oh,  that  I  had  beene  nourish'd  in 

these  woods  40 

With   milke    of  goates  and   akrons,  and    not 

knowne 

The  right  of  crownes,  nor  the  dissembling  traines 
Of  womens  lookes ;  but  dig'd  my  selfe  a  cave, 
Where  I,  my  fire,  my  cattell,  and  my  bed 
Might  have  been  shut  together  in  one  shed ;         45 
And  then  had  taken  me  some  mountaine  girle, 
Beaten  with  winds,  chaste  as  the  hardned  rocks 
Whereon  she  dwelt,  that  might  have  strewed  my 

bed 
With  leaves,  and  reedes,  and  with  the  skins  of 

beasts, 
Our    neighbours,  and  have    borne   at   her   big 

breasts  5° 

My  large  course  issue.    This  had  beene  a  life 
Free  from  vexation. 

Enter  Bellario. 

Bellario.  Oh  wicked  men  ! 

An  innocent  may  walke  safe  among  beasts  j 

38-39  Harke,  let' 's  goe.    Qi,  Hark  else. 
40  these.    Qi,  the.  41  akrons.    Qi,  acrons. 

43  -w omens  lookes.    Qi,  cruell  love. 

47  hardned  rocks.     Qi,  rocke.  48  dwelt,   Qi.    Qz-F, 

dwells.          50  borne  at  her.    Qi,  borne  out  her. 
53  innocent.    F,  innocent  man. 


254  |0fcila0ter  [ACT  iv. 

Nothing  assaults  me  here.    See,  my  grieved  lord 
Sits  as  his  soule  were  searching  out  a  way  55 

To  leave  his  body !  —  Pardon  me  that  must 
Breake  thy  last    commandement ;    for  I   must 

speake  : 
You  that  are  griev'd  can  pitty ;  heare,  my  lord  ! 

Phi.  Is  there  a  creature  yet  so  miserable, 
That  I  can  pity  ? 

Bell.  Oh,  my  noble  lord,  60 

View  my  strange  fortune,  and  bestow  on  me, 
According  to  your  bounty  (if  my  service 
Can  merrit  nothing),  so  much  as  may  serve 
To  keepe  that  little  piece  I  hold  of  life 
From  cold  and  hunger. 

Phi.  Is  it  thou  ?  be  gone  !       65 

Go  sell  those  misbeseeming  cloathes  thou  wear- 

est, 
And  feed  thy  selfe  with  them. 

Bell.  Alas,  my  lord,  I  can  get  nothing  for 

them  : 

The  silly  countrey  people  thinke  tis  treason 
To  touch  such  gay  things. 

Phi.  Now,  by  the  gods,  this  is  70 

Unkindly  done,  to  vex  me  with  thy  sight ; 

54  See.    Qi,  I  see.  56  must.    Qi  omits. 

6 1  fortune.    Qi,  fortunes. 

65-70  Phi.    Is  it  .   .   .  gay  things.    Qi  omits. 

66  ivearcst.    Q4'39~ F,  wear'st. 

70  by  the  gods.    Q4~F,  D,  my  life. 


ii.]  jatulastrr  255 

Th'art  falne  againe  to  thy  dissembling  trade. 
How  shouldst  thou  thinke  to  cozen  me  againe  ? 
Remaines  there  yet  a  plague  untride  for  me  ? 
Even  so  thou  wepst,  and  lookst,and  spokst,  when 

first  75 

I  tooke  thee  up  :  curse  on  the  time  !    If  thy 
Commanding  teares  can  work  on  any  other, 
Use  thy  art ;  Pie  not  betray  it.    Which  way 
Wilt  thou  take,  that  I  may  shun  thee  ? 
For  thine  eyes  are  poison  to  mine ;  and  I  80 

Am  loth  to  grow  in  rage.    This  way,  or  that 

way  ? 

Bell.  Any  will  serve,  but  I  will  chuse  to  have 
That  path  in  chase  that  leades  unto  my  grave. 
Exit  Phi[laster  and~\  Bell\ario\  severally. 
Enter  Dion  and  the  Woodmen. 

Dion.  This  is  the  strangest  suddaine  chance  ! 

—  You  woodman  ! 

1st  Woodman.  My  Lord  Dion  ?  85 

Dion.  Saw  you  a  lady  come  this  way  on  a 
sable  horse  studded  with  starres  of  white  ? 

71   TV  art.    Qi,  thou  art. 

75  lookst,  and.    Q4-F  omit.        frst  I.    Qi,  I  first. 

76—8 1  /  tooke  .  .  .  that  -way.  Verse-division  of  Q2-F.  B 
transfers  which  way  from  1.  78  to  1.  79  and  follows  Th,  in  changing 
to  of  1.  80  to  "unto."  W,  D,  make  seven  lines,  ending  up, 
teares,  art,  take,  poison,  rage,  way.  76  up.  Qi  omits. 

Enter,  etc.    Qi,  Enter  Leon,  Cle.  and  Wood-men. 

84  chance.    Q6,  F,  change.     85    rst  Woodman.    Qi,  "Cle." 

87  studded.    Qi,  starre-dyed ;  Q6,  F,  stubbed. 


256  pljilatfter  [ACT  iv 


2nd  Woodman.  Was  she  not  young  and  tall  ? 

Dion.  Yes.    Rode  she  to  the  wood,  or  to  the 
plaine  ? 

2nd  Wood.  Faith,  my  lord,  we  saw  none.         9° 

Exit  Woodmen. 

Dion.  Poxe  of  your  questions  then  !  — 
Enter  Cleremont. 

What,  is  she  found  ? 

Cleremont.  Nor  will  be,  I  thinke. 

Dion.  Let  him  seeke  his  daughter  himselfe  : 
shee  cannot  stray  about  a  little  necessary  naturall 
businesse,  but  the  whole  court  must  be  in  armes  j  95 
when  she  has  done,  we  shall  have  peace. 

Cle.  There's  already  a  thousand  fatherlesse 
tales  amongst  us  ;  some  say  her  horse  ran  away 
with  her  ;  some,  a  wolfe  persued  her  ;  others, 
t'was  a  plot  to  kill  her,  and  that  arm'd  men  100 
were  scene  in  the  wood  ;  but  questionlesse,  she 
rode  away  willingly. 

Enter  King,  and  Thrasiline. 

King.  Where  is  she  ? 

Cle.  Sir,  I  cannot  tell. 

King.  How'  s  that  ? 

Answer  me  so  againe. 

Cle.  Sir,  shall  I  lie  ? 

88  2nd  Woodman.    Qi,  "  I  Wood."       91  your.    Qz,  you. 
Enter  Cleremont.    Qi  omits.  98  ran.    Qi,  Q5b-F,  run. 

loo  fivas.    Q3,  it  was.          arm  d.    Qi,  armed. 
103  How's.    Q3-F,  How  is.        104  Cle.    Qi,  "Leon." 


257 

King.  Yes,  lie  and  damne,  rather  then  tell  me 

that.  105 

I  say  againe,  where  is  she  ?    Mutter  not !  — 
Sir,  speake  you,  where  is  she  ? 

Dion.  Sir,  I  doe  not  know. 

King.  Speake  that  againe  so  boldly,  and,  by 

heaven, 

It  is  thy  last.  —  You  fellowes,  answer  me, 
Where  is  she  ?    Marke  me  all,  I  am  your  king,  no 
I  wish  to  see  my  daughter ;  shew  her  me ; 
I  doe  command  you  all,  as  you  are  subjects, 
To  shew  her  me.    What !  am  I  not  your  king  ? 
If  I,  then  am  I  not  to  be  obeyed  ? 

Dion.  Yes,  if  you  command  things  possible 

and  honest.  "5 

King.  Things  possible  and    honest !     Heare 

me,  thou, — 
Thou  traytor,  that  dar'st  confine  thy  king  to 

things 

Possible  and  honest ;  shew  her  me, 
Or  let  me  perish,  if  I  cover  not 
All  Cicilie  with  blood. 

Dion.  Faith,  I  cannot,  no 

Unlesse  you  tell  me  where  she  is. 

114  then.    Qi,  why  then. 

116—117  Heare  .  .  .  traytor.    Q I,  heare  me  then,  thou  traytor. 

117—118  things  .  .  .  honest.    Qi,  possible  and  honest,  things. 

lao  Faith.    Q4-F,  D,  Indeed. 

ill  you.    Qi,  you'le. 


258  Blaster  [ACTIV. 

King.  You  have  betrayed  me;  you  have  let 

me  loose 

The  Jewell  of  my  life  :  goe,  bring  her  me, 
And  set  her  here  before  me :  tis  the  King 
Will  have  it  so,  whose  breath  can  still  the 

winds,  i*5 

Unclowd  the  sun,  charme  downe  the  swelling 

sea, 
And  stop  the  flouds  of  heaven.    Speake,  can  it 

not? 

Dion.  No. 
King.          No  ?    Cannot  the  breath  of  kings 

doe  this  ? 
Dion.  No ;  nor  smell  sweete  it  selfe,  if  once 

the  lungs 
Be  but  corrupted. 

King.  Is  it  so  ?    Take  heed  !  130 

Dion.  Sir,  take  you  heed  how  you  dare  the 

powers 
That  must  be  just. 

King.  Alas,  what  are  we  kings  ? 

Why  doe  you  gods  place  us  above  the  rest, 
To  be  serv'd,  flatter'd,  and  ador'd,  till  we 
Beleeve  we  hold  within  our  hands  your  thunder  ?  *35 

122  you  have,  Qi.    Q2— F,  y'have. 

124  here.    Q6,  F,  omit.  i?.8   kings.    Qi,  a  King. 

129  Dion.    Qi,  "Cle."         No;  nor.    Q I,  no  more. 

130  Is  it  so.    Qi  omits.          Take.    Qi,  Take  you. 

131  Sir.    Qi  omits.  134  till.    Qi,  still. 


SCENE  II.]  ^HtLtttt  259 

And  when  we  come  to  try  the  power  we  have, 
There's  not  a  leaf  shakes  at  our  threatnings. 
I   have  sind  tis    true,    and    here    stand    to    be 

punish'd ; 

Yet  would  not  thus  be  punish'd;  let  me  chuse 
My  way,  and  lay  it  on.  140 

Dion.  He  articles  with  the  gods ;  would 
some  body  would  draw  bonds  for  the  perform- 
ance of  covenants  betwixt  them  ! 

Enter  Pha\_ramond~\}  Galatea,  and  Megra, 

King.  What,  is  she  found  ? 

Pharamond.          No,  we  have  tane  her  horse, 
He  gallopt  empty  by.    There's  some  treason:     145 
You,  Galatea,  rode  with  her  into  the  wood  ; 
Why  left  you  her  ? 

Galatea.  She  did  command  me. 

King.  Command  !  you  should  not. 

Gal.  T' would  ill  become   my   fortunes  and 

my  birth 
To  disobey  the  daughter  of  my  king.  150 

King.  Y'are  all  cunning  to  obey  us  for  our  hurt, 
But  I  will  have  her. 

Pha.  If  I  have  her  not, 

By  this  hand,  there  shall  be  no  more  Cicilie. 

136  we  have.    Qit  we  thinke  we  have. 

138  stand.    Qi,  I  stand. 

139  thus.    Qi,  these.  143  covenants.    Qi,  covenant. 
146  -with  her  into  the  'wood.    Qi,  into  the  Wood  with  her. 
148  King.    Qi,  "Pha."      151    Tare.    Qi,  O  y'are.    hurt. 

Qi,  hurts.          153  hand.    Qi,  sword. 


260  &ilatfter  [ACT  iv. 


Dion.  What,  will   he  carry  it  to  Spaine  in's 

pocket  ? 
Pha.  I  will  not  leave  one  man  alive,  but  the 

King,  155 

A  cooke,  and  a  taylor. 

Dion.  Yes,  you  may  do  well  to  spare  your 
lady  bedfellow,  and  her  you  may  keep  for  a 
spawner. 

King.  I  see  the  injuries  I  have  done  must  be 

reveng'd.  160 

Dion.  Sir,  this  is  not  the  way  to  finde  her  out. 
King.  Run    all,   disperse   your    selves.    The 

man  that  findes  her, 
Or  (if  she  be  kild)  the  traytor,  Fie  make  him 

great. 

Dion.  I  know  some  would  give  five  thousand 
pounds  to  finde  her.  165 

Pha.  Come,  let  us  seeke. 
King.  Each  man  a  severall  way,  here  I  my 

selfe. 

Dion.  Come  gentlemen,  we  here. 
Cle.  Lady,  you  must  goe  search  too. 
Megra.  I  had  rather  be  search'd  my  selfe.       170 

Exit  omnes. 

157  Yet.    Q4-F,  D,  Yet.          spare.  Qi,  leave. 

158  lady.    Q6,  F,  ladies.        and  her  .  .  .  spawner.    Qi,  here 
for  a  spincer.  164  /  know  some.    Qi,  I,  some. 

166—167  Pha.   King-   Qi  gives  these  speeches  to  "  King  "  and 
"  Pha."  respectively. 

170  Megra.    Qi,  "  Gal."         be  searched.    Qi,  the  search. 


SCENE  in.]  |3l)ila$ter  261 

[SCENE  III. 

Another  Part  of  the  Forest.] 
Enter  dretbusa. 

Arethusa.  Where  am  I  now  ?    Feete  finde  me 

out  a  way, 

Without  the  counsell  of  my  troubled  head. 
Tie  follow  you  boldly  about  these  woods, 
O're  mountaines,   thorow  brambles,  pits,  and 

flouds. 
Heaven  I  hope  will  ease  me.    I  am  sicke. 

[She  sits  down,~\ 
Enter  Bellario. 
Bellario.  Yonder's  my  lady.    God  knowes  I 

want  nothing, 

Because  I  doe  not  wish  to  live ;  yet  I 
Will  try  her  charity.  —  Oh  heare,  you  that  have 

plenty, 
From  that   flowing  store,  drop   some  on   drie 

ground.  —  See, 

The  lively  red  is  gone  to  guard  her  heart ! 
I  feare  she  faints  :  —  Madam,  looke  up !  —  She 
breathes  not.  — 

I  finde  .   .   .   "way.    Qi,  finde  out  the  way. 

4  O're.    Qi,or.        thorow,  Q4'39-F.   Qi-Q4'34,  through. 
She  sits  doivn,  Qi. 

6-14   Yonder's  .  .  .  comfort,  line-division  Qz-F.    D  ends  lines 
with  want,  live,  hear,  store,  red,  faints,  more,  lord,  is  it,  comfort. 

6    Tender's  my  lady.    Q I,  Yonder  my  lady  is.    God.    Q^gods; 
Q3-F,  D,  Heaven.  9  ground.   Qi,  grounds. 


262  Blaster  [ACT  iv. 

Open  once  more  those  rosie  twins,  and  send 
Unto  my  lord  your  latest  farewell !  —  Oh,  she 

stirres !  — 
How  is  it,  madam  ?   Speake  comfort. 

Are.  Tis  not  gently  done,  15 

To  put  me  in  a  miserable  life, 
And  hold  me  there.    I  prethee,  let  me  goe, 
I  shall  doe  best  without  thee ;  I  am  well. 

Enter  Pbilaster. 
Phi/aster.  I  am  too  blame  to  be  so  much  in 

rage; 

I'le  tell  her  coolely,  when  and  where  I  heard       ao 
This  killing  truth.    I  will  be  temperate 
In  speaking,  and  as  just  in  hearing. 
Oh  monstrous !  Tempt  me  not,  you  gods !  good 

gods, 
Tempt  not  a  fraile  man  !  —  What's  he,  that  has 

a  heart, 

But  he  must  ease  it  here !  *S 

Be!!.  My  lord,  helpe,  helpe  the  princesse. 
Are.  I  am  well :   forbeare. 
Phi.  Let  me  love  lightning,  let  me  be  embrac't 

iz  more.    Qi  omits.          twins.    Qi,  twines. 

*3   oh-    G5b»  *  On-     ihe-  G6»  he- 

14  it  it.    Qi,  is't.  1 8   lam  well.    Qi  omits. 

Z3  you.    F,  D,  ye.  24  Whafi.    Qi,  Who's. 

25  here.    Qi,  with  his  tongue. 

a6  helpe,  helpe  thet  Qi-Q3,  B.    Q4-Q6,  help;  F,  help  the; 
D,  help,  help!    The.  z8  lightning.    Qi,  lightnings. 


SCENE  EEL]  ^i^ttt  263 


And  kist  by  scorpions,  or  adore  the  eyes 

Of  basalisks,  rather  than  trust  the  tongues  3° 

Of  hell-bred  women  !    Some  good   god  looke 

downe 

And  shrinke  these  veins  up  ;  stick  me  here  a  stone 
Lasting  to  ages  in  the  memory 
Of  this  damned  act  !  —  Heare  me,  you  wicked 

ones, 

You  have  put  hills  of  fire  into  this  breast,  35 

Not  to  be  quench'd  with  teares  ;  for  which,  may 

guilt 

Sit  on  your  bosomes  !  at  your  meales,  and  beds, 
Dispaire  awayte  you  !    What,  before  my  face  ? 
Poyson  of  aspes  between  your  lips  !   Deseases 
Be  your  best  issues  !  Nature  make  a  curse  40 

And  throw  it  on  you  ! 

Are.  Dear  Philaster,  leave 

To  be  enrag'd,  and  heare  me. 

Phi.  I  have  done  ; 

Forgive  my  passion.    Not  the  calmed  sea, 
When  Eolus  locks  up  his  windy  brood, 
Is  lesse  disturb'd  then  I.    Fie  make  you  know't  :  45 

30  the.   Q4-F,  to. 

31  Of  .   .   .  downc.    Q4~  F  omit.      women.    Qz,  woman. 
33  ages  in  the.    Qi  omits. 

35  hills  of.    Q6,  F,  the  hills  on.     thit.    Qi,  my. 

40  make.    Q4~QS>  makes. 

41  throw.    Qz  misprints,  through. 

42  To  be  enrag'd.    Qi,  To  inrage. 

45  know't,  Q2.   Q3-F,  D,  B,  know  it.   Qi,  know. 


264  pilaster  [ACT  iv. 

Dear  Arethusa,  doe  but  take  this  sword, 
And  search  how  temperate  a  heart  I  have ; 
Then  you    and    this  your    boy   may   live   and 

raigne 

In  lust  without  controle. — Wilt  thou,  Bellario  ? 
I  prethee  kill  me ;  thou  art  poore,  and  maist 
Nourish  ambitious  thoughts ;  when  I  am  dead, 
Thy  way  were  freer.    Am  I  raging  now  ? 
If  I  were  mad  I  should  desire  to  live. 
Sirs,  feele  my  pulse ;  whether  have  you  knowne 
A  man  in  a  more  equall  tune  to  die  ? 

Bell.  Alas,  my  lord,  your  pulse  keepes  mad- 

mans  time ! 
So  does  your  tongue. 

Phi.  You  will  not  kill  me  then  ? 

Are.  Kill  you  ? 

Bell.  Not  for  the  world. 

Phi.  I  blame  not  thee, 

Bellario :  thou  hast  done  but  that  which  gods 
Would  have  transform'd  themselves  to  do.    Be 

gone! 
Leave  me  without  reply;  this  is  the  last 

45  Q I  adds  stage-direction,  offers  Us  drawn  sword. 

46  doe  tut.    Qi  omits. 

52  Thy,  Qi.    Qi-F,  This. 

54  have  you.    Qi,  D,  you  have.  55  a.    Qi  omits. 

56  Bell.  Q  i,  "  Prin.,  "i.e.,  Arethusa.  madmans.  Qi,  mad- 
mens. 

58  Art  .  .  .  Bell.  Qi,  "  Boy."  ..."  Prin."  the.  £4- 
F,  a. 


SCENE  HI.]  tylSlSttt  265 


Of  all  our  meetings.  (Exit  Bell\ario.']}  Kill  me 

with  this  sword; 

Be  wise,  or  worse  will  follow  ;  we  are  two 
Earth  cannot  beare  at  once.    Resolve  to  doe, 
Or  suffer.  65 

Are.    If  my  fortune  be  so  good,  to  let  me  fall 
Upon  thy  hand,  I  shall  have  peace  in  death. 
Yet  tell  me  this,  will  there  be  no  slanders, 
No  jealousie  in  the  other  world,  no  ill  there  ? 

Phi.  No.  70 

Are.  Shew  me  then  the  way. 

Phi.  Then  guide  my  feeble  hand, 
You  that  have  power  to  doe  it,  for  I  must 
Performe  a  peece  of  justice.  —  If  your  youth 
Have  any  way  offended  heaven,  let  prayers  75 

Short  and  effectuall  reconcile  you  to  it. 

Are.  I  am  prepared. 

Enter  a  Countrey  Fellow. 

Country  Fellow.  Tie  see  the  King,  if  he  be  in 
the  forrest  ;  I  have  hunted  him  these  two  houres. 
If  I  should  come  home  and  not  see  him,  my  go 

62  meetings,  Qi.    Qz—F,  meeting. 

66  fortune.    Qi,  F,  fortunes.  67  in  death.   Qi,  with  earth.  .- 

68  -will  there.    Qi,  Qz,  there  will. 

69  jealousie,  Q  I-Q4.    Q5-F,  D,  B,  jealousies. 
there.    Qi,  here. 

71  Sheio  .  .  .  "way.   Qi,  Shew  me  the  way  to  joy. 

76  to  it.    Qi,  to't. 

Enter  .  .  Fellow.  Qi,  Enter  .  .  Gallant.        78  Vie.  Qi,  I  will. 

79  these.    Qi,  this.        houres.  Q3,  Q4,  houre. 


266  &ilaster  [ACT  rv. 


sisters  would  laugh  at  me.  I  can  see  nothing  but 
people  better  horst  then  my  selfe,  that  outride 
me  >  I  can  heare  nothing  but  showting.  These 
kings  had  need  of  good  braines  ;  this  whooping 
is  able  to  put  a  meane  man  out  of  his  wits.  85 
There's  a  courtier  with  his  sword  drawn  ;  by 
this  hand,  upon  a  woman  I  thinke. 

Phi.  Are  you  at  peace  ? 

Are.  With  heaven  and  earth. 

Phi*  May  they  divide  thy  soule  and  body  ! 

[Wounds  her.] 

Coun.   Hold,  dastard,  strike  a  woman  !  Th'art  90 
a  craven,  I  warrant  thee  j  thou  wouldst  bee  loth 
to  play  halfe  a  dozen  venies  at  wasters  with  a 
good  fellow  for  a  broken  head. 

Phi.  Leave  us,  good  friend. 

Are.  What  ill-bred  man  art  thou,  to  intrude 

thy  selfe  95 

Upon  our  private  sports,  our  recreations. 

8*  then,    Q2  misprints,  then  then.        outride.     Q4'}9,  Qsb, 
Q6,  outrid. 

84  good,    Qi,  strong.         this.    Qi,  the. 

85  is   .    .   .  man.    Qi,  would  put  a  man. 

88  Are  .  .   .  earth.    B  includes  May  they  in  this  line. 
hea-ven.    F,  Heavens, 

89  May.    Qi,   Nay. 

Wounds  her.    Qi,  "  Phy.  wounds  her  "  after  peace,  I.  88. 

91  thou  tuouldst.    Qi,  thou  d'st;  Q3-Q6,  thou  wouldest. 

92  dozen.    Q4-F,  dozen  of.        venies.    Qz,  Q3,  spell,  veines. 

93  good  fellow.    Qi,  man. 


m.j  flatter  267 


Coun.  God  uds  me,  I  understand  you  not  ; 
but  I  know  the  rogue  has  hurt  you. 

Phi.  Persue  thy  owne  affaires  ;  it  will  be  ill 
To  multiply  blood  upon  my  head,  which  thou     100 
Wilt  force  me  to. 

Coun.  I  know  not  your  rethoricke,  but  I  can 
lay  it  on  if  you  touch  the  woman.         Tbeyjigbt. 

Phi.  Slave,  take  what  thou  deservest  ! 

Are.  Heaven  guard  my  lord  ! 

Coun.   Oh,  doe  you  breathe  ?  105 

Phi.  I  heare  the  tread  of  people.    I  am  hurt  ; 
The  gods  take  part  against  me  ;  could  this  boore 
Have  held  me  thus  else  ?    I  must  shift  for  life, 
Though  I  doe  loathe  it.   I  would  finde  a  course 
To  lose  it  rather  by  my  will  then  force.  no 

Exit  Pbilaster. 

Coun.  I  cannot  follow  the  rogue  :  I  preethee 
wench,  come  kisse  me  now. 
Enter  Phara  [m  ond~\,  Dion,  Cle\remont\,  Thrasi^Iine] 
and  Woodmen. 

Pharamond.  What  art  thou  ? 

Coun.  Almost  kild  I  am  for  a  foolish  woman  ; 
a  knave  has  hurt  her.  115 

97  uds  me.    Qi,  judge  me;  Q4—  F,  uds. 

98  you.    Qi,  ye.  loz  rethoricke.    Qi,  Rethrack. 
104  Heaven.    Qi,  Gods;  Q4~F,  D,  Heavens. 

107  could.    Qi,  would.  109  loathe.    Qi,  lose. 

112  come  kisse,  Qi,  B.    Qz-F,  D,  come  and  kiss. 

113  Pharamond.    Qi,  "Leon." 


268  Blaster  [ACT  iv. 

Pha.  The    princesse,    gentlemen !     Where's 
the  wound  madam  ?    Is  it  dangerous  ? 

Are.   He  has  not  hurt  me. 

Coun.  By  God,  she  lies;  has  hurt  her  in  the 

breast, 
Look  else. 

Pha.          O  sacred  spring  of  innocent  blood  !  120 

Dion.  Tis  above  wonder !  who  should  dare 
this  ? 

Are.  I  felt  it  not. 

Pha.  Speake  villaine,  who  has  hurt  the  prin- 
cesse ? 

Coun.  Is  it  the  princesse  ? 

Dion.  I.  125 

Coun.  Then  I  have  scene  something  yet. 

Pha.   But  who  has  hurt  her  ? 

Coun.  I  told  you,  a  rogue  j  I  ne're  saw  him 
before,  I. 

Pha.  Madam,  who  did  it  ? 

Are.  Some  dishonest  wretch; 

Alas,  I  know  him  not,  and  doe  forgive  him.        130 

Coun.   Hee's  hurt  too ;  he  cannot  goe  farre;  I 
made  my  fathers  olde  foxe  flie  about  his  eares. 

119  By  God.    Q3-F,  D,  I'faith.        in  the.    Qi,  i'the. 

120  Look  else,  Qq,  F,  include  in  preceding  line.     0  sacred.   Qi, 
oh  secret.  125   Dion.  /.    Qi,  Omnes.    I. 

127  Pha.    Qi,  "Leon."          hurt  her.    Q I,  done  it. 
129—130  Some  .  .  .  forgive  Aim.   Verse-division  of  D  ;  one  line 
m  Qlt  F.  132  made.   Qi,  let.         about  his.    Qi,  about' s. 


SCENE  HI.]  $tyl&&ttt  269 


Pha.  How  will  you  have  me  kill  him  ? 

Are.  Not  at  all;  tis  some  distracted  fellow. 

Pha.  By  this  hand,  Fie  leave  never  a  piece  135 
of  him  bigger  then  a  nut,  and  bring  him  all  to 
you  in  my  hat. 

Are.  Nay,  good  sir  ; 

If  you  doe  take  him,  bring  him  quicke  to  me, 
And  I  will  study  for  a  punishment,  140 

Great  as  his  fault. 

Pha.  I  will. 

Are.  But  sweare. 

Pha.  By  all  my  love  I  will. 

Woodmen,  conduct  the  princesse  to  the  King, 
And  beare  that  wounded  fellow  to  dressing. 
Come,  gentlemen,  wee'l  follow  the  chase  close.  145 
Exit  Are\tbusa\,  Pha\ramond~^,  Di[pn~\, 
Cle\remont\,  Tbra\jiline'\,  and  I  Wood- 
man. 

Coun.  I  pray  you,  friend,  let  me  see  the  King. 

2nd  Wood.  That  you  shall,  and  receive  thanks. 

Coun.  If  I  get  cleare  of  this,  Fie  goe  see  no 

more  gay  sights.  Exeunt. 

135  hand.   Qi,ayre.          never.   Q5~  F,  ne'er. 

136  of  him.   Qi  omits.          to  you,  Qi,  Q4—  F  omit. 

141  fault.    Qi,  sinne.  142  I  -will.    Q5a,  I  will.   I  will. 

142—145  By  all  .  .  .  close.  Verse-division  of  D.  Prose  in 
Qq,  F.  143  Woodmen.  Q4-F,  D,  B.  Qi-Q3>  Woodman. 

144  to.    Qi,  unto.          Exit,  etc.   Qi  prints  simply  Exit. 

147  2nd  Wood.    Qi,  "Cle." 

H^  °f,  Qi-Ql-  Q4-F,  with.  got  tee,  F.  Qi,  see; 

Q2-Q6,  goe  to  see.  Exeunt.  In  Qq,  F,  opposite  1.  147. 


270  pbaater  [ACTIV. 

[SCENE  IV. 

Another  Part  of,  the  Forest.~\ 
Enter  Bellario. 

Bellario.  A  heavinesse  neere  death  sits  on  my 

brow, 

And  I  must  sleepe.   Beare  me,  thou  gentle  banke, 
For  ever  if  thou  wilt.    You  sweete  ones  all, 

\Lies  down] 

Let  me  unworthy  presse  you :   I  could  wish 
I  rather  were  a  course  strewd  'ore  with  you  5 

Then  quicke  above  you.    Dulnesse  shuts  mine 

eyes. 

And  I  am  giddy.    Oh,  that  I  could  take 
So  sound  a  sleepe  that  I  might  never  wake  ! 

[Sleeps.] 
Enter  Pbilaster. 

Philaster.  I  have  done  ill;  my  conscience  calls 

me  false, 

To  strike  at  her  that  would  not  strike  at  me.        10 
When  I  did  fight,  me  thought  I  heard  her  pray 
The  gods  to  guard  me.    She  may  be  abusde, 
And  I  a  loathed  villain  :  if  she  be, 
She  will  conceale  who  hurt  her.    He  has  wounds, 
And  cannot  follow,  neither  knowes  he  me.  15 

Who's  this  ?    Bellario  sleeping  ?    If  thou  beest 

I   A  hea-vinesse  neere.    Qi,  O  heavens  !   heavy. 

3  ones.    Qi,  on.    Lies  doion,  D.  6  mine.    Qi,  my. 

7   Oh.    Qi  omits.  16  beest.    Qi,  be'st. 


SCENE  IV.]  p)ta0tet  2JI 

Guilty,  there  is  no  justice  that  thy  sleepe 
Should  be  so  sound,  and  mine,  whom  thou  hast 

wrong' d, 
So  broken.  (Cry  within.')   Hark!  I  am  persued. 

You  gods, 

I'le  take  this  offerd  meanes  of  my  escape.  ao 

They  have    no    marke    to    know   me  but   my 

blood, 

If  she  be  true ;  if  false,  let  mischiefe  light 
On  all  the   world  at  once !    Sword,   print  my 

wounds 

Upon  this  sleeping  boy !    I  ha  none,  I  thinke, 
Are  mortal,  nor  would  I  lay  greater  on  thee.         *5 

Wounds  him. 
Bell.  Oh,  death  I  hope  is  come  !    Blest   be 

that  hand ! 

It  meant  me  well.   Againe,  for  pitties  sake  ! 
Phi.  I  have  caught  my  selfe ; 

Pti  [/aster]  falls. 
The  losse  of  blood  hath  stayed  my  flight.    Here, 

here 

Is  he  that  stroke  thee  ;  take  thy  full  revenge ;        3° 
Use  me,  as  I  did  meane  thee,  worse  then  death ; 
Fie  teach  thee  to  revenge.    This  lucklesse  hand 
Wounded  the  princesse  ;  tell  my  followers, 

19   Cry  within.    So  placed  in  Qi  ;  Q2— F,  after  1.  17. 

21   blood,  Qi.    Q2— F,  wounds. 

24  this.    Qi,  his.          boy.    Qi,  body.         I  ha.    Qi,  he  has. 

27  meant.    Qi,  wisht.         pitties.    Qi,  pittie. 


272  J^ilaster  [ACTIV. 

Thou  didst  receive  these  hurts  in  staying  me, 
And  I  will  second  thee ;  get  a  reward.  35 

Bell.  Fly,  fly,  my  lord,  and  save  your  selfe. 
Phi.  How's  this  ? 

Wouldst  thou  I  should  be  safe  ? 

Bell.  Else  were  it  vaine 

For  me  to  live.    These  little  wounds  I  have 
Ha  not  bled  much  ;  reach  me  that  noble  hand ; 
He  helpe  to  cover  you. 

Phi.  Art  thou  then  true  to  me  ?  40 

Bell.  Or  let  me   perish  loath'd.    Come,  my 

good  lord, 

Creepe  in  amongst  those  bushes ;  who  does  know 
But  that  the   gods  may  save  your  much  lov'd 

breath  ? 
Phi.  Then  I   shall  dye  for  griefe,  if  not  for 

this, 

That  I  have  wounded  thee.    What  wilt  thou  doe  ?  45 
Bell.  Shift  for  my  selfe  well ;  peace,  I  heare 
um  come.    \_Philaster  creeps  into  a  bush.~\ 
Within.  Follow,    follow,  follow !    that    way 
they  went. 

36  Fly,  fly.    Qi,  Hide,  hide. 

37  -were  it.    Qi,  it  was  ;  Q6,  F,  it  were. 

38  little.    Qi  omits.  39  Ha.    Qi,  has. 
40  then,  only  Qi.                               41  good.    Qi  omits. 

42  amongst,  Qi,  F.  Qi— Q6,  among.         those.    Qi,  these. 

43  much  Jo-v'd  breath.    Qi,  your  breeth  in't,  Shromd. 

46  Philaster  .   .    .   bush,  W,  D,  B. 

47  Follow,  follow,  follow  !    Qi,  Follow,  follow. 


SCENE  iv.]  pijtiatfter  273 

Bell.  With  my  owne  wounds  Pie  bloudy  my 

owne  sword. 

I  need  not  counterfeit  to  fall ;  heaven  knowes, 
That  I  can  stand  no  longer.  [Falls.]   50 

Enter  Pharamond,  Dion,  Cleremont,  Tbrasiline. 
Pharamond.  To  this  place  we  have  tract  him 

by  his  bloud. 
Cleremont.    Yonder,    my    lord,    creepes    one 

away. 

Dion.  Stay  sir ;  what  are  you  ? 
Bell.  A  wretched  creature  wounded  in  these 

woods 

By  beasts  ;  relieve  me,  if  your  names  be  men,     55 
Or  I  shall  perish. 

Dion.  This  is  he,  my  lord, 

Upon  my  soule,  that  hurt  her ;  tis  the  boy, 
That  wicked  boy  that  serv'd  her. 

Pha.  O,  thou  damn'd  in  thy  creation  ! 
What   cause  couldst  thou  shape  to    strike  the 

princesse  ?  60 

Bell.  Then  I  am  betrayed. 
Dion.  Betrayed  !  no,  apprehended. 
Bell.  I  confesse ; 

(Urge  it  no  more)  that,  big  with  evill  thoughts, 

50  That.    Qi  omits.          Falls,  D.    Qi,  Boy  falls  downe. 

51  iv e  have.    Qi,  I. 

52-53    Cleremont.  Dion.    Qi,  "Leon."  "  Cle." 

56  Dion.    Qi,  "Tra."         57  tis.    Qi,  it  is. 

59  thy.    Q5a,  the.  60  strike.    Q3-F,  D,  B,  hurt. 


274  pilaster  [ACT  iv 

I  set  upon  her,  and  did  make  my  ayme 
Her  death.    For  charity,  let  fall  at  once  65 

The  punishment  you  meane,  and  do  not  load 
This  weary  flesh  with  tortures. 

Pha.  I  will  know 

Who  hired  thee  to  this  deed. 

Bell.  Mine  owne  revenge. 

Pba.  Revenge,  for  what  ? 

Bell.  It  pleasde  her  to  receive 

Me  as  her  page,  and  when  my  fortunes  eb'd,       70 
That    men   strid  ore  them  carelesse,  she  did 

showre 

Her  welcome  graces  on  me,  and  did  swell 
My  fortunes,  till  they  overflowed  their  bankes, 
Threatning  the  men  that  crost  um ;  when,  as  swift 
As  stormes  arise  at  sea,  she  turn'd  her  eyes          75 
To  burning  sunnes  upon  me,  and  did  dry 
The  streames   she   had   bestowed,  leaving  me 

worse 

And  more  contemn'd  then  other  little  brookes, 
Because  I  had  beene  great.    In  short,  I  knew 
I  could  not  live,  and  therefore  did  desire  80 

To  dye  reveng'd. 

Pha.  If  tortures  can  be  found 

64  make.    Q4-F,  take.  67  tortures.    Qi,  tortour. 

67-68   I  will  .    .    .   this  deed.    One  line  Q  I,  F. 
68  Mine.    Qi,  My.  69  Pha.    Qi,  "  Cle." 

71  carelesse.    Q4~ F,  carelessly.       74  um.    Qi,  them. 
76  sunnes.    Qi,  Sines. 


SCENE  IV.] 

Long  as  thy  natural  life,  resolve  to  feele 
The  utmost  rigour. 

Pbilaster  creepes  out  of  a  bush. 

Cle.  Helpe  to  leade  him  hence. 

Phi.  Turne  backe,  you  ravishers  of  innocence ! 
Know  ye  the  price  of  that  you  beare  away  85 

So  rudely  ? 

Pha.          Who's  that  ? 

Dion.  Tis  the  Lord  Philaster. 

Phi.  Tis  not  the  treasure  of  all  kings  in  one, 
The  wealth  of  Tagus,  nor  the  rocks  of  pearle 
That  pave   the   court  of  Neptune,  can  weigh 

downe 

That  vertue.    It  was  I  that  hurt  the  princesse.     9° 
Place  me,  some  god,  upon  a  Piramis, 
Higher  then  hils  of  earth,  and  lend  a  voyce 
Loud  as  your  thunder  to  me,  that  from  thence 
I  may  discourse  to  all  the  under-world 
The  worth  that  dwels  in  him ! 

Pha.  How's  this  ? 

Bell.  My  lord,  some  man  95 

Weary  of  life,  that  would  be  glad  to  dye. 

Phi.  Leave  these  untimely  courtezies,  Bellario. 

83   rigour.    Qi,  vigour.    Stage-direction  placed  as  in  Q I  ;  after 
•vigour  in  Qa— F.  84  innocence.    Qi ,  innocents. 

85  Se-    Q'»  y°u-    that-    Qi,  what.        86    Tis  the.    Qi,  My. 

87  all.    Qi,  all  the.  90  that.    Q6,  as. 

91   upon  a  Piramis.    Qi,  on  a  Pyramades. 

93  your.   Qi,  you.      94  discourse  to  all.    Qi,  teach. 

97  these  .   .   .  courtezies.   Qi,  this  .   .   .   courtesie. 


276  ptjilasftrj:  [ACT  iv. 

Bell.  Alas,  hee's  mad;  come,  will  you  lead 
me  on  ? 

Phi.  By  all  the  oaths  that  men  ought  most 

to  keepe, 

And  gods  to  punish  most  when  men  do  breake,  100 
He  toucht  her  not.  —  Take  heede,  Bellario, 
How  thou  dost  drowne  the  vertues  thou  hast 

showne 

With  perjury.  —  By  all  the  gods,  twas  I ! 
You  know  she  stood  betwixt  me  and  my  right. 

Pba.  Thy  owne  tongue  be  thy  judge. 

Cle.  It  was  Philaster.  105 

Dion.  Is't  not  a  brave  boy  ? 
Well,  sirs,  I  feare  me,  we  were  all  deceived. 

Phi.  Have  I  no  friend  here  ? 

Dion.  Yes. 

Phi.  Then  shew  it :  some 

Good  body  lend  a  hand  to  draw  us  neerer. 
Would  you  have  teares  shed  for  you  when  you 

dye?  no 

Then  lay  me  gently  on  his  necke,  that  there 
I  may  weepe  flouds,  and  breath  forth  my  spirit. 

98  heft.    Qs— Q6,  he  is.    lead  me  on.    Qi,  beare  me  hence. 

100  to,  Qi,  Edd.  '78.    Qa-F,  D,  B,  doe. 

101  not.    Qi,  nor.          103  the  gods.    Q4-F,  D,  that's  good. 
105—108   Cle.  .  .  .  Phi.    Qi  gives  these  five  speeches  to  Leon, 

Thra.,  Boy,  Leon,  and  Boy,  respectively. 

106  lit.    Q3,  Is  it. 

107  sirs,  I  feare  me.    F  omits  me;  Qi,  I  feare  me,  sir.    all.  Qi 
omits,      in  gently.    Q6,  F,  gentle.      112 forth.   Q3-F,  out. 


SCENE  iv.j  |0J)ila0ter  277 

Tis  not  the  wealth  of  Plutus,  nor  the  gold 
Lockt  in  the  heart  of  earth,  can  buy  away 
This  armefull  from  me;  this  had  bin  a  ran- 

some  "5 

To  have  redeemed  the  great  Augustus  Caesar, 
Had  he  bin  taken.    You  hard-hearted  men, 
More  stony  than  these  mountaines,  can  you  see 
Such  cleere  pure  bloud  drop,  and  not  cut  your 

flesh 

To  stop  his  life  ?  to  bind  whose  bitter  wounds,     no 
Queenes  ought  to   teare  their  haire,  and  with 

their  teares 

Bath  um. — Forgive  me,  thou  that  art  the  wealth 
Of  poore  Philaster. 

Enter  King,  Arethusa,  and  a  Guard. 
King.  Is  the  villaine  taine  ? 

Pha.  Sir,  here  be  two  confesse  the  deede ;  but 

sure 
It  was  Philaster. 

Phi.  Question  it  no  more ;  it  was.  125 

King.  The  fellow  that  did  fight  with    him 
will  tell  us  that. 

113   Tis  not.    Q i,  Not  all.  Plutus.    Qi,  Pluto. 

119  cleere.    Qi,  a  cleere.  lao  bitter.    Q4-F,  better. 

121   haire.    Qi,  haires.  122  bathe,  Qi.    Q^-F,  bath. 

124  Pha.  Qi,  "Leon."  sure,  D,  B.  Qi,  sute.  Q2- 
F,  W,  Boas,  say. 

145  //  -was  Philaster.  Qq,  F,  include  in  1.  124.  Phi.  Qi, 
"  King." 

116  King.    Qi,  "  Pha."  us  that.    Q4-F,  us. 


278  gfcilaater  [ACTIV. 


Arethusa.  Ay  me,  I  know  he  will. 

King.  Did  not  you  know  him  ? 

Are.  Sir,  if  it  was  he,  he  was  disguised. 

Phi.  I  was  so.    Oh  my  stars,  that  I  should 
live  still  ! 

King.  Thou  ambitious  foole,  13° 

Thou  that  hast  laid  a  traine  for  thy  owne  life  ! 
Now  I  do  meane  to  doe  ;  Fie  leave  to  talke. 
Beare  them  to  prison. 

Are.  Sir,  they  did  plot  together,  to  take  hence 
This  harmlesse  life  j  should  it  passe  unreveng'd,  135 
I  should  to  earth  go  weeping;  grant  me  then, 
By  all  the  love  a  father  beares  his  child, 
Their  custodies,  and  that  I  may  appoint 
Their  tortures  and  their  deaths. 

Dion.  Death  ?  soft  :  our  law  will  not  reach 
that  for  this  fault.  14° 

King.  Tis  granted  ;  take  um  to  you,  with  a 

guard.  — 

Come,  princely  Pharamond,  this  businesse  past, 
We  may  with  more  security  goe  on 
To  your  intended  match. 

[Exeunt  all  except  Dion,    Cleremont,  and 
Tbrasiline] 

127  he  -will.    Qi,  him  well.         iz8  "was  he.   Qi,  were  he. 

133  them,  Qi.    Qa-F,  him.        136  go.   Qi  omits. 

137  love.    Qi,  loves.  138  and.    Qi  omits. 

139  deaths.    Q6,  F,  death.  140  our.    Qi,  your. 

143  may.    Qi,  shall.  144   To  your.   Qi,  with  our. 

Exeunt,  etc.,  D.    Qi,  Exit  King  and  Pharamont. 


SCENE  IV.]  &Sttt  279 

Cle.  I  pray  that  this  action  lose  not  Philaster  145 
the  hearts  of  the  people. 

Dion.  Feare  it  not ;  their  overwise  heads  will 
thinke  it  but  a  tricke.  Exeunt  omnes. 


Finis  Actus  quarti. 

145   Cle.   Qi,  "Leon."         147  Dion.   Qi,  "Cle. 
Finis  .  .  .  quarti.   Qi,  F,  omit. 


ACTUS    QUINTUS.     SCENA    PRIMA. 

[Before  the  Palace.'} 
Enter  Dion,  Cleremont,  Thrasiline. 

Thrasiline.  Has    the   King    sent  for  him  to 
death  ? 

Dion.  Yes,  but  the  King  must  know  tis  not 
in  his  power  to  warre  with  heaven. 

Cleremont.  We  linger   time ;  the  King   sent 
for  Philaster  and  the  headsman  an  houre  agoe. 

Thra.  Are  all  his  wounds  well  ? 

Dion.  All ;  they  were  but  scratches,  but  the 
losse  of  bloud  made  him  faint. 

Cle.  We  dally,  gentlemen. 

Tbra.  Away ! 

Dion.  Weele  skuffle  hard  before  he  perish. 

Exeunt. 
[SCENE  II. 

A  Prison.'} 
Enter  Pbilaster,  Aretbusa,  Bellario. 

Aretbusa.  Nay,  faith,  Philaster,  grieve  not ; 
we  are  well. 

Enter  .  .  .  Cleremont.  Qz  spells  "  Clerimond  "  throughout 
Act  v.  I  Thrasiline.  Qi  gives  this  speech  and  the  seven 

succeeding  ones  to  Leon,  Cleremont,  Thrasiline,  Leon,  Thrasiline, 
Cleremont,  Leon,  and  Thrasiline,  respectively. 

i  a  Weelc  skuffle.     Qi,  a  shufle. 

Exeunt.     Qi,  before  preceding  line,  Exit. 

Enter,  etc.    Qi,  Enter  Phylaster,  Princesse,  Boy,  in  prison. 

I  faith.    Q4-F,  D,  dear. 


SCENE  IL]  ASOSttt  28  1 


Bellario.  Nay,  good  my  lord,  forbeare,  were 
wondrous  well. 

Philaster.  Oh  Arethusa,  O  Bellario,  leave  to 

be  kind  ! 

I  shall  be  shut  from  heaven,  as  now  from  earth, 
If  you  continue  so.    I  am  a  man,  5 

False  to  a  paire  of  the  most  trusty  ones 
That  ever  earth  bore  :  can  it  beare  us  all  ? 
Forgive  and  leave  me.    But  the  King  hath  sent 
To  call  me  to  my  death  ;  oh,  shew  it  me, 
And  then  forget  me  !  And  for  thee,  my  boy,        10 
I  shall  deliver  words  will  mollifie 
The  hearts  of  beasts  to  spare  thy  innocence. 

Bell.  Alas,  my  lord,  my  life  is  not  a  thing 
Worthy  your  noble  thoughts  ;  tis  not  a  life, 
Tis  but  a  peece  of  child-hood  throwne  away.       15 
Should  I  outlive  you,  I  should  then  outlive 
Vertue  and  honour  ;  and  when  that  day  comes, 
If  ever  I  shall  close  these  eyes  but  once, 
May  I  live  spotted  for  my  perjury, 
And  waste  by  time  to  nothing  !  *° 

Are.  And  I  (the  woful'st  maid  that  ever  was, 

2  -were,  Qa.    Qi,  Qs-F,  D,  B,  we  are.      3   0.   Qi,  and. 
4  shut,  Qi.    Qz-F,  shot.          as  now  from  earth.    Qi  omits. 
6  most  trusty.    Qi,  truest.         8   Forgive.    Qi,  forgive  me. 

16  you.    Q6,  F,  omit.    I  should.    F,  I  shall,    then.    Qi  omits. 

17  comes.    Qi,  come.  1  8  shall.    F,  should. 

20  by  time,  Qi,  B.    Qz,  D,  by  limbs  ;  Q3-F,  my  limbs. 

21  that.   Q6,  F,  as.     was.   Qi,  B,  liv'd. 


282 

Forc't  with  my  hands  to  bring  my  lord  to  death) 
Doe  by  the  honour  of  a  virgin  sweare 
To  tell  no  houres  beyond  it. 

Phi.  Make  me  not  hated  so. 

Are.  Come  from  this  prison,  all  joyfull  to  our 
deaths  ! 

Phi.  People  will  teare  me  when   they   find 

you  true 

To  such  a  wretch  as  I ;  I  shall  dye  loath'd. 
Injoy  your  kingdomes  peaceably,  whilst  I 
For  ever  sleepe,  forgotten  with  my  faults. 
Every  just  servant,  every  maid  in  love, 
Will  have  a  peece  of  me,  if  you  be  true. 

Are.  My  deere  lord,  say  not  so. 

Bell.  A  peice  of  you  ! 

He  was  not  born  of  woman  that  can  cut  it 
And  looke  on. 

Phi.  Take  me  in  teares  betwixt  you, 

For  my  heart  will  breake  with  shame  and  sor- 
row. 

Are.  Why,  tis  well. 

Bell.  Lament  no  more. 

Phi.  [Why,]  what  would  you  have 

done  ? 
If  you  had  wrong'd  me  basely,  and  had  found 

24  houres  beyond.    Qi,  houre  behind. 

28  kingdomes.    Qi,  Kingdome. 

30  servant.    Qi,  maiden.  32  deere  lord.    Qi,  deerest. 

33  -woman,  Qi.   Q2-F,  women.          37  Why,  only  Qi. 


in.)  pljilaater  283 

Your  life  no  price  compar'd  to  mine  ?    For  love, 

sirs, 
Deale  with  me  truely. 

Bell.  Twas  mistaken,  sir.          40 

Phi.    Why  if  it  were  ? 

Bell.  Then,  sir,  we  would  have  ask'd 

Your  pardon. 

Phi.  And  have  hope  to  injoy  it  ? 

Are.  Injoy  it !    I. 

Phi.  Would  you  indeed  ?    be  plaine. 

Bell.    We  would,  my  lord. 

Phi.  Forgive  me  then. 

Are.  So,  so. 

Bell.  Tis  as  it  should  be  now. 

Phi.  Lead  to  my  death.     Exeunt.  45 

[SCENE  III. 

A  Room  in  the  Palace."] 

Enter  King,  Dion,  Cleremont,  Thrasilin. 

King.  Gentlemen,  who  saw  the  prince  ? 
Cleremont.  So  please  you,  sir,  hee's  gone  to 
see  the  city 

39   Your  .  .  .  mine,  Mason   conj.    W,    D,   B.    Qz— F,  My 
.  .  .  yours  ;  Qi,  My  life  no  whit  compared  to  yours. 
41—42    Then  .   .    .  pardon.    Qq,  F,  one  line. 
42    Tour,  Q2.    Qi,  Q3-F,  you. 

44  Bell.   Qi,  "  Prin."        Enter,  etc.  Qi  adds,  and  a  guard. 
2   Cleremont.   Qi,  "  Leon." 


284  Blaster  [ACT  v. 

And  the  new  platforme,  with  some  gentlemen 
Attending  on  him. 

King.  Is  the  princesse  ready 

To  bring  her  prisoner  out  ? 

Thrasiline.  She  waites  your  grace.     5 

King.  Tell  her  we  stay.         [Exit  ThrasHine.] 
Dion.  King,  you  may  be  deceiv'd  yet ; 

The  head  you  aime  at  cost  more  setting  on 
Than  to  be  lost  so  lightly.    If  it  must  off; 
Like  a  wilde  over-flow,  that  soopes  before  him 
A    golden    stacke,  and    with    it    shakes    down 

bridges,  I0 

Cracks  the  strong  hearts  of  pines,  whose  cable 

roots 

Held  out  a  thousand  stormes,  a  thousand  thun- 
ders, 

And,  so  made  mightier,  takes  whole  villages 
Upon  his  back,  and  in  that  heate  of  pride, 
Charges  strong  townes,  towers,  castles,  pallaces,  15 
And  layes  them  desolate ;  so  shall  thy  head, 
Thy  noble  head,  bury  the  lives  of  thousands, 
That  must  bleed  with  thee  like  a  sacrifice, 
In  thy  red  ruines. 

3  platforme.    Qi,  Plotforme.  5    Thrasiline.    Qi,  "  Cle." 

6  Exit  Thrasiline,  only  Qi. 

8  to  be  lost.  Qi,  to  lose  it.          lightly.  Q5~F.  slightly.  After 
lightly,  Qi  adds  stage-direction,  "  aside." 

10  stacke.    Qi,  stocke.  13  mightier.    Qi,  weightier. 

14  that.    Qi,  the.  16  layes.    Qi,  leaves. 


SCENE  m.]  ^lllifittt  285 

Enter  Pbilaster,  Aretbusa,  Bellario,  in  a  robe  and 
garland,  \_and  Thrasiline.~] 

King.   How  now,  what  maske  is  this  ?  20 

Bellario.   Right  royall  sir,  I  should 
Sing  you  an  epithelamion  of  these  lovers, 
But  having  lost  my  best  ayres  with  my  fortunes, 
And  wanting  a  celestiall  harpe  to  strike 
This  blessed  union  on,  thus  in  glad  story  25 

I  give  you  all.    These  two  fair  cedar-branches, 
The  noblest  of  the  mountaine,  where  they  grew 
Straightest  and  tallest,  under  whose  still  shades 
The  worthier  beasts  have  made  their  layars,  and 

slep't 

Free  from  [the  firver  of]  the  Sirian  starre  3° 

And  the  fell  thunder-stroke,  free  from  the  clouds, 
When  they  were  big  with  humor,  and  deliver' d 
In  thousand  spouts  their  issues  to  the  earth : 
O  there  was  none  but  silent  quiet  there  ! 
Till  never  pleased  Fortune  shot  up  shrubs,  35 

Base  under-brambles,  to  divorce  these  branches  j 
And  for  a  while  they  did  so,  and  did  raigne 

in  a  robe  and  garland.    Qi,  with  a  garland  of  flowers  on's  head. 
21  should.    Qi,  shal.  22  of  these  lo-vers.    Qi  omits. 

23   having.    Q5a,  have.  25   on.    Qi  omits. 

27  mountaine.    Qi,  mountaines. 
30  thefr-ver  of,  only  Qi. 

30-33.   Free  from  .   .   .  earth.     Line-division  of  D.     Q^-F, 
three  lines,  ending  thunder-stroke,  humor,  earth. 

33  deliver'' d.    Q4~F.    Qi-Q3,  deliver. 

34  their.    Qi,  that.  35  pleased.    Q^^g-F,  pleas'd. 
36  brambles,  to  divorce.    Qi,  branches,  to  devour. 


286  Blaster  [ACT  v. 

Over  the  mountaine,  and  choake  up  his  beauty 
With  brakes,  rude  thornes  and  thistles,  till  the 

sunne 
Scorcht  them  even  to  the  roots  and  dryed  them 

there ;  4° 

And  now  a  gentle  gale  hath  blowne  againe, 
That  made  these  branches  meete  and  twine  to- 
gether. 

Never  to  be  divided.    The  god  that  sings 
His  holy  numbers  over  marriage  beds 
Hath  knit  their  noble  hearts,  and  here  they  stand  45 
Your  children,  mighty  King :  and  I  have  done. 
King.   How,  how  ? 

Arethusa.       Sir,  if  you  love  it  in  plaine  truth, 
(For  now  there  is  no  masking  in't )  this  gentle- 
man, 

The  prisoner  that  you  gave  me,  is  become 
My  keeper,  and  through  all  the  bitter  throwes     50 
Your  jealousies  and  his  ill  fate  have  wrought 
him, 

38  choake.   Qi,  did  choake;  Q4'39~F,  choakt. 

39  rude  thornes.    Qi,  rud,  thornes.         the.    Q6,  F,  thy. 

40  even.  Qi  omits.         roots.  Qi,  roote.          them.  Qi,  un. 

41  a.    Q5a  omits,  gentle.    Qz,  Q3,  gentler,    hath.    Qi,  has. 

43  divided.    Q  i,  unmade  ;  but  D  and  B  cite  unarmde  as  read- 
ing of  Qi. 

44  holy.   Qi  omits.          numbers,  Q4-F.    Qi-Q3,  number. 
over.  Qi,  ore.     45  Hath.   Qi,  has.         noble.    Q5a  omits. 

46  mighty.    Qi,  worthy.  48   now.    Q4-F,  omit. 

50  throwes.    Qi,  threats;  modern  Edd.,  throes. 


287 

Thus  nobly  hath  he  strugled ;  and  at  length 
Arrived  heere  my  deare  husband. 

King.  Your  deere  husband  ! 

Call  in  the  captain  of  the  cittadell. 
There  you  shall  keepe  your  wedding.    He  provide  55 
A  masque   shall  make  your   Himen  turne  his 

saffron 

Into  a  sullen  coat,  and  sing  sad  requiems 
To  your  departing  soules  ; 
Bloud  shall  put  out  your  torches,  and  instead 
Of  gaudy  flowers  about  your  wanton  necks,          60 
An  axe  shall  hang,  like  a  prodigious  meteor, 
Ready  to  crop  your  loves  sweetes.    Heare,  you 

gods ! 

From  this  time  do  I  shake  all  title  off 
Of  father  to  this  woman,  this  base  woman  j 
And  what  there  is  of  vengeance  in  a  lyon,  65 

Chaft  among  dogs,  or  rob'd  of  his  deare  yong, 
The  same  inforc't  more  terrible,  more  mighty, 
Expect  from  me ! 

Are.  Sir,  by  that  little   life    I   have   left  to 

sweare  by, 

52  strugled.    Q5~ F,  strangled. 

54-58  Call  in  .  .  .  soules.  Line-division  of  D,  B.  Qz— F  print 
call  in  in  line  53  and  end  the  next  four  lines  with  keepe,  make,  coat, 
soules.  55  There.  Qi,  where. 

65  vengeance  in.    Qi,  venge.  in. 

66  Chaft,  Qi.   Q2-Q4,  Chast;  QS-F,  Cast.       among.  Qi, 
Q6,  F,  amongst.  68  Expect.    Qi,  looke. 

69  Sir,  included  in  this  line  in  Qi,  but  printed  on  a  line  by 
itself  Qa-F.  /.  Qi,  that  I. 


288  totrr  [ACT  v. 


Theres  nothing  that  can  stirre  me  from  my  selfe.  70 
What  I  have  done,  I  have  done  without  repent- 

ance, 

For  death  can  be  no  bug-beare  unto  me, 
So  long  as  Pharamond  is  not  my  headsman. 
Dion  [aside~\.  Sweet   peace   upon   thy  soule, 

thou  worthy  maid, 
When  ere  thou  dyest  ;  for  this  time  He  excuse 

thee,  75 

Or  be  thy  prologue. 

Philaster.  Sir,  let  me  speake  next, 

And  let  my  dying  words  be  better  with  you 
Then  my  dull  living  actions.    If  you  ayme 
At  the  deere  life  of  this  sweet  innocent, 
Y'are  a  tyrant  and  a  savage  monster,  80 

[That  feedes  upon  the  blood  you  gave  a  life  to  ;] 
Your  memory  shall  be  as  foule  behind  you 
As  you  are  living  ;  all  your  better  deeds 
Shall  be  in  water  writ,  but  this  in  marble  ; 
No  chronicle  shall  speake  you,  though  your  owne,  85 
But  for  the  shame  of  men.    No  monument 
(Though  high  and  big  as  Pelion)  shall  be  able 
To  cover  this  base  murther  ;  make  it  rich 

70  Theres.    Q  53,  There  is.         that.    Qi  omits. 

72  can  ,    .    .  me.    Qi,  to  me  can  be  no  bug  bear. 

73  So.    Qi,  as.  76   Or  be.    Q  i,  ore  by. 
79  deere.    Qi  omits.              80    "fare.    Qi,  you  are. 
8  1  That  .  .  .  to,  only  Qi.     86  the.    Qi,  a. 

87  Pelion.    Qz,  Peleon  ;  Q5a,  Pelican. 


SCENE  HI.]  $ty\&tittt  289 

With   brasse,  with    purest   gold,    and   shining 

jasper, 

Like  the  piramides  ;  lay  on  epitaphes,  90 

Such  as  make  great  men  gods  ;  my  little  marble 
(That  only  cloathes  my  ashes,  not  my  faults) 
Shall  farre  outshine  it.    And  for  after-issues, 
Think  not  so  madly  of  the  heavenly  wisedomes, 
That  they  will  give  you  more  for  your  mad  rage  95 
To  cut  off,  unlesse  it  be  some  snake,  or  something 
Like  your  selfe,  that  in  his  birth  shall  strangle  you. 
Remember  my  father,  King !    There  was  a  fault, 
But  I  forgive  it.    Let  that  sinne  perswade  you 
To  love  this  lady.    If  you  have  a  soule,  I0° 

Thinke,  save  her,  and  be  saved.    For  my  selfe, 
I  have  so  long  expected  this  glad  houre, 
So  languisht  under  you,  and  dayly  withered, 
That,  by  the  gods,  it  is  a  joy  to  die ; 
I  find  a  recreation  in't.  IOS 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Messenger.  Wheres  the  King  ? 

King.  Heere. 

Mess.  Get  you  to  your  strength, 

And  rescue  the  Prince  Pharamond  from  danger ; 
Hee's  taken  prisoner  by  the  citizens, 
Fearing  the  Lord  Philaster. 

Dion    [aside] .  Oh,  brave  followers  ! 

89  "with  purest.   Qi  omits. 

104  by  the  gods.    Q4-F,  D,  heaven  knows.        a.  Q4-F,  my. 
106   Wheres.    D,  Where  is.  you.    Qi  omits. 

109   Fearing.    Qi,  For.         followers.    Qi,  fellowes. 


290  Blaster  [ACT  v. 

Muteny,  my  fine  deere  countrimen,  muteny!      no 
Now,  my  brave    valiant    foremen,   shew  your 

weapons 
In  honour  of  your  mistresses  ! 

Enter  another  Messenger. 
2nd  Messenger.  Arme,  arme,  arme,  arme ! 
King.  A    thousand    divels    take    [these  citi- 
zens !  ] 

Dion  [aside].    A  thousand  blessings  on  um !  «s 
2nd  Mess.  Arme,  O   King !    the  citty  is    in 

muteny, 

Led  by  an  old  gray  ruffin,  who  comes  on 
In  rescue  of  the  Lord  Philaster. 
King.  Away  to  the  cittadell !  — 

Exit  [Messenger]  with  Are\tbusa~\, 
Phi [faster,]  Be  liar  to. 

He  see  them  safe, 
And  then    cope    with  these  burgers.    Let  the 

guard  120 

And  all  the  gentlemen  give  strong  attendance. 

Exit  King. 

Manent  Dion,  Clermont,  Tbrasiline. 
Cle.  The  citty  up !  this  was  above  our  wishes. 

Enter  another  Messenger.   Qi  omits  ;   D,  Enter  a  second  gentle- 
man. 

113  2nd  Messenger.   Qi,  "2  Mes  "  ;  Qz-F,  "Mess." 
arme.   Qi,  Q4-F,  repeat  only  three  times. 

114  these  citizens,  Qi.    Qz-F,  um  or  'em. 

115  um.    Qi,  them.  Exit  .  .   .  Bellario.    Qi  omits. 


SCENE  HE.] 

Dion.  I,  and    the  marriage  too.    By  al    the 

gods, 

This  noble  lady  has  deceiv'd  us  all. 
A  plague  upon  my  self,  a  thousand  plagues,        115 
For   having    such    unworthy   thoughts    of  her 

deare  honour ! 

O,  I  could  beat  my  selfe  !  or  do  you  beat  me, 
And  He  beat  you,  for  we  had  all  one  thought. 

Cle.  No,  no,  twill  but  lose  time. 

Dion.   You    say    true.      Are    your    swords  130 
sharpe  ?  —  Well,  my  deare  countrymen  What- 
ye-lacks,  if  you  continue    and  fall    not  backe 
upon  the  first  broken  shinne,  He  have  ye  chron- 
icled, and  chronicled,  and  cut  and  chronicled, 
and  all-to-be-praisde  and  sung  in  sonnets,  and  135 
bawled  in  new  brave  ballads,  that  all  tongues 
shall  troule  you  in   secttla   seculorum^  my    kind 
can-carriers. 

Thra.  What  if  a  toy  take  um  ith  heels  now, 
and    they  runne  all  away,  and  cry,  the  divellno 
take  the  hindmost  ? 

143   By  al  the  gods,  Qi,  B.    Qa-F,  D,  by  my  life. 

124-128  This  noble  .  .  .  thought.  Verse-division  of  Edd.  1787, 
W,  D,  B.  Qq,  F,  prose. 

131  What-ye-lacks,  Qz.  Hyphens  added  by  B,  who  follows 
Qi,  what  you  lackes.  Qs-F,  what  ye  lacke. 

133  shinne.  Q  I,  Skin.  have  ye.  Qi,  see  you;  Q3-F,  D, 
B,  have  you.  135  all-to-be-praisde.  Hyphens  added  by  Th. 

136  baioled,  Heath  conj.,  D,  B.    Qq,  F,  bathd. 

new  brave.  Q I ,  bra ve  new .      138  can-carriers .  Q I ,  Countrimen. 


292  J^toter  [ACT  v. 

Dion.  Then  the  same  divell  take  the  formost 
too,  and  sowce  him  for  his  breakefast.  If  they 
all  prove  cowards,  my  curses  flye  among  them 
and  be  speeding !  May  they  have  murreins  145 
raigne  to  keep  the  gentlemen  at  home  unbound 
in  easie  freeze  !  May  the  mothes  branch  their 
velvets,  and  their  silkes  only  be  worne  before 
sore  eyes !  May  their  false  lights  undoe  um,  and 
discover  presses,  holes,  staines,  and  oldnesse  in  150 
their  stuffes,  and  make  them  shop-rid  !  May  they 
keepe  whores  and  horses,  and  breake ;  and  live 
mued  up  with  neckes  of  beefe  and  turnups ! 
May  they  have  many  children,  and  none  like 
the  father!  May  they  know  no  language  but  155 
that  gibberish  they  prattle  to  their  parcels,  un- 
lesse  it  bee  the  goatish  Latine  they  write  in  their 
bonds,  and  may  they  write  that  false,  and  lose 
their  debts  ! 

Enter  the  King. 

King.  Now  the    vengeance  of  all  the  gods  160 
confound  them  !    How  they  swarme  together! 

143  so-wee.    Qi,  sawce. 

144  flye  .  .  .  speeding.    Qi,  flush  amongst  um  and  ill-speed- 
ing.   F,  amongst  for  among, 

145  murreins.    Qi,  murriens  ;  Qi,  injurious. 

146  unbound.    Qi  omits. 

147  easie.    Qi,  rafine.          mothes.    Qi,  moth. 

153   neckes.    Q^a,  neck.  155   May  they.    Qi,  And. 

157  goatish,  Qz,  Q3-    Qi,  gotish  ;  Q4-F,  goarish  ;  Th,  W, 
Gothick. 


SCENE  HI.]  J^ilatfttt  293 

what  a  hum  they  raise  !  —  Divels  choake  your 
wilde  throats  !  —  If  a  man  had  need  to  use  their 
valours,  he  must  pay  a  brokage  for  it,  and  then 
bring  um  on,  and  they  will  fight  like  sheepe.  Tis  165 
Philaster,  none  but  Philaster,  must  allay  this 
heate.  They  will  not  heare  me  speake,  but 
fling  durt  at  me  and  call  me  tyrant.  Oh,  runne, 
deare  friend,  and  bring  the  Lord  Philaster ! 
speake  him  faire ;  call  him  prince  ;  do  him  all  170 
the  courtesie  you  can ;  commend  me  to  him ! 
Oh,  my  wits,  my  wits  !  Exit  Ckremont. 

Dion  \aside~\ .  Oh  my  brave  countrymen ! 
as  I  live,  I  will  not  buy  a  pinne  out  of  your 
walls  for  this  ;  nay,  you  shall  cozen  me,  and  He  175 
thank  you,  and  send  you  brawne  and  bacon,  and 
soile  you  every  long  vacation  a  brace  of  foremen, 
that  at  Michaelmas  shall  come  up  fat  and  kick- 
ing-— 

King.  What    they    will    do  with  this  poorer 80 
prince,  the  gods  know,  and  I  feare. 

Dion  [aside] .  Why,  sir,  thei'le  flea  him,  and 

163  -wilde   Ql,  wide.          their.    Qi,  your. 

164  he.  Qi,  we.         for  it.    Qi,  for't. 

165  um.  Qi  omits,     and.    Q$— F  omit.  they.    Qi,  you. 
I  jo  faire.     Q I,  well.                   171  courtesie.    Qi,  courtesies. 
173  countrymen.    Ql,  citizens. 

177  and  soile  you.    Q I  omits.          every.    Qz  misprints,  ever. 
177—179  -vacation   .   .   .   kicking.     Ql,    vocation;    and    foule 
shall  come  up  fat  and  in  brave  liking.         180  this.     Qi,  that. 
181  and.    Q  i  omits.  182  sir.   Q  i  omits. 


294  pilaster  [ACT  v. 

make  church-buckets  on's  skin,  to  quench  re- 
bellion ;  then  clap  a  rivet  in's  sconce,  and  hang 
him  up  for  [a]  signe.  185 

Enter  Cleremont  with  Pbilaster. 

King.  O,  worthy  sir,  forgive  me ;  do  not  make 
Your  miseries  and  my  faults  meete  together, 
To  bring  a  greater  danger.    Be  your  selfe, 
Still  sound  amongst  diseases.  I  have  wrong'd  you ; 
And  though  I  find  it  last,  and  beaten  to  it,          190 
Let  first  your  goodnesse  know  it.    Calme  the 

people, 

And  be  what  you  were  borne  to.    Take  your  love, 
And  with  her  my  repentance,  all  my  wishes, 
And  all  my    prayers.    By  the   gods,  my  heart 

speakes  this; 

And  if  the  least  fall  from  me  not  perform'd,       195 
May  I  be  strooke  with  thunder ! 

Philaster.  Mighty  sir, 

I  will  not  doe  your  greatnesse  so  much  wrong, 
As  not  to  make  your  word  truth.  Free  the 

princesse 

And  the  poore  boy,  and  let  me  stand  the  shock 
Of  this  mad  sea-breach,  which  He  either  turne  aoo 
Or  perish  with  it. 

King.  Let  your  owne  word  free  them. 

183  quench.    Q6,  F,  squench.        a,  Qq,  F,  except  Qz. 
190  to  it.   Qi,  to't.        191  first.    Qi,  me.       it.    Qi  omits. 
193  all.    Q4-F,  and.       194  speakes  this.    Qi,  speakes  all  this. 
199  poore.    Qi  omits.     201  them.    Qi,  her. 


SCENE  IV.]  ^HSiSttt  295 


Phi.  Then  thus  I  take  my  leave,  kissing  your 

hand, 

And  hanging  on  your  royall  word.    Be  kingly, 
And  be  not  mooved,  sir  ;  I  shall  bring  you  peace, 
Or  never  bring  my  selfe  backe.  * 

King.    [Now]  all  the  gods  goe  with  thee. 

Exeunt  omnes. 

[SCENE  IV. 

A  Street.'] 

Enter  an  old  Captaine  and  Citizens  with  Pbaramond. 

Captain.  Come,  my    brave    mirmidons,  lets 

fall  on. 
Let  your  caps  swarm,  my  boyes,  and  your  nim- 

ble tongs 
Forget  your  mother  gibberish  of  "  what  do  you 

lacke." 

203  royall.     Qit  noble.  204  you,  Qi.    Qi-F,  your. 

206  Now,  Qi,  B.  Exeunt  omnes.    Qi  omits. 

Scene  IV.  The  text  of  Q  i  from  this  point  to  the  end  of  the 
play  is  reprinted  at  the  beginning  of  the  Notes  to  this  play.  After 
line  37  it  departs  entirely  from  the  text  of  Q2-F.  Variants  of 
Qi  are  henceforth  recorded  at  the  foot  of  the  page  only  when 
of  importance  to  the  present  text. 

1  Come,  my  brave,  etc.     From  the  first  line  of  the  scene  until 
the  entry  of  Philaster  at  line  81,  Qq,  F,  present  a  mixture  of  prose 
and  verse,  much  of  the  latter  impossible.      The  Edd.  '78  printed 
the  whole  as  prose  ;  Th,  W,  and  D  reduced  it  to  verse  ;  and  B 
follows  D  "with  some  misgiving."      The  passage  was  originally 
probably  in  verse  by  Fletcher  ;  and  D's  division  is  here  followed 
with  notes  of  its  departure  from  Qz. 

2  your  cafs,  Qi.  Q2—  F,  our  caps.       your  nimble.  Q4*39-F, 
you  nimble.  3  mother.   Q6,  F,  mothers. 


296  |0l)ila0ter  [ACT  v. 

And  set  your  mouthes  ope,  children,  till  your 

pallats 

Fall  frighted  halfe  a  fathome  past  the  cure  $ 

Of  bay-salt  and  grose  pepper.    And  then  cry, 
"  Philaster,  brave  Philaster !  "    Let  Philaster 
Be  deeper  in  request,  my  ding-dongs, 
My  paires  of  deere  indentures,  kings  of  clubs, 
Then  your  cold  water  chamblets,  or  your  paint- 
ings 10 
Spitted  with  copper.    Let  not  your  hasty  silkes, 
Or  your  branch'd  cloth  of  bodkin,  or  your  tish- 

ues, 

Dearely  beloved  of  spiced  cake  and  custards, 
You   Robin    Hoods,  Scarlets,   and  Johns,  tye 

your  affections 

In  darknesse  to  your  shops.    No,  dainty  duckers,  15 
Up  with  your  three-piled  spirits,  your  wrought 

valors ; 

And  let  your  uncut  collers  make  the  King  feele 
The  measure  of  your  mightinesse.    Philaster  ! 
Cry,  my  rose-nobles,  cry  ! 

All.  Philaster!  Philaster! 

Cap.  How  do  you  like  this,  my  lord  prince  ?  *o 

4  ope,  Qi.  Q2-F,  Up. 

8  ding-dongs.    D,  from  Qi,  ding-a-dings. 

9  kings.    Q4-F,  King.  10  your.    Q5,  you. 

13  beloved.    Q3-F,  beloo'd.         custards.    Q4-F,  custard. 

14  Tou,  Th,  B.     Qi-F,  D,  Your. 
17  collers.    Q4'39~F,  coUer. 


SCENE  ivj  ptjUatfter  297 


These  are  mad  boyes,  I  tell  you  ;  these  are  things 
That  will  not  strike  their  top-sailes  to  a  foist, 
And  let  a  man  of  warre,  an  argosie, 
Hull  and  cry  cockles. 

Pharamond.  Why,  you   rude  slave,   do  you 

know  what  you  doe  ?  *5 

Cap.  My  pretty  prince  of  puppets,  we   do 

know, 

And  give  your  greatnesse  warning  that  you  talke 
No   more    such    bugs-words,   or    that   solder'd 

crowne 
Shall  be  scratchd  with  a  musket.    Deere  Prince 

Pippen, 

Downe  with  your  noble  bloud  ;  or,  as  I  live,       3° 
He  have  you  codled.  —  Let  him  lo  [o]  se,  my 

spirits  ; 
Make   us    a    round   ring  with  your   bills,  my 

Hectors, 

And  let  me  see  what  this  trim  man  dares  do. 
Now,  sir,  have  at  you  !   here  I  lye  ; 
And   with   this    swashing    blow    (do   you    see, 

sweete  prince  ?)  35 

I   could  hulke  your  grace,  and  hang  you  up 

crosse-legd, 

28  solder'd.    Q3-F,  soldred. 

33  «•«•  Qi,  Q2-    Q3-F,  D,  B,  us.        34  lye.    Q6,  F,  it. 

35  swashing.   Qz,  washing.          see,  siveete,  Qz.    Q3,  sweet; 
Q4,  G5b,  Q6>  sweat  ;  £53,  swet  ;  F,  swear. 

36  hulke,  Qa-F,  Boas.   Qi,  D,  B,  hock. 


298  pilaster  [ACT  v. 

Like  z  hare  at  a  poulters,  and  do  this  with  this 

wiper. 
Pha.  You  will  not  see  me  murderd,  wicked 

villaines  ?    . 
1st  Citizen.  Yes,  indeed,  will    we,  sir;    we 

have  not  seen  one 
For  a  great  while. 

Cap.          He  would  have  weapons,  would  he  ?  4° 
Give  him  a  broadside,  my  brave  boyes,  with  your 

pikes  ; 

Branch  mee  his  skin  in  flowers  like  a  sattin, 
And  betweene  every  flower  a  mortal  cut. — 
Your  royalty  shall  ravell ! — Jag  him,  gentlemen ; 
He  have  him  cut  to   the  kell,  then  downe  the 

seames.  45 

Oh  for  a  whip  to  make  him  galloon e-laces  ! 
lie  have  a  coach-whip. 

Pha.  Oh,  spare  me,  gentlemen  ! 

Cap.   Hold,  hold; 

The  man  begins  to  feare  and  know  himselfe ; 
He  shall  for  this  time  only  be  seald  up,  50 

With  a  feather  through  his  nose,  that  he  may 
only 

39—47  Yes  .  .  .  coach-whip.  Qz—F,  as  prose  to  •whip  in  1.  46, 
then  two  short  verse-lines  ending  galloone-laces,  coacb-ivhip. 

40  For,  W,  D,  B.    Qz-F,  foe. 

48   Hold,  hold.    Qi— F  include  in  1.  49. 

5  1-54  With  .  .  .  king.  Qi-Q4,  verse-lines  ending  see,  going, 
you,  king ;  Q5-F,  three  lines  ending  see,  going,  king. 


SCENE  IV.]  y&ty\&*ttt  299 

See  heaven,  and  thinke  whither  hee's  going. 
Nay,  my  beyond-sea  sir,  we  will  proclaime  you  : 
You  would  be  king  ! 

Thou  tender  heire  apparant  to  a  church-ale,         55 
Thou  sleight  prince  of  single  scarcenet, 
Thou  royall  ring-taile,  fit  to  flie  at  nothing 
But  poore  mens  poultry,  and  have  every  boy 
Beate  thee  from  that  too  with  his  bread  and  butter ! 

Pha.  Gods  keepe  me  from  these  hel-hounds  ! 

1st  Cit.  Shalls  geld  him,  captaine  ?     60 

Cap.  No,  you  shall  spare  his    dowcets,  my 

deare  donsels; 

As  you  respect  the  ladies,  let  them  flourish: 
The  curses  of  a  longing  woman  kill 
As  speedy  as  a  plague,  boyes. 

1st  Cit.  He  have  a  leg,  that's  certaine. 

2nd  Cit.  He  have  an  arme.  65 

jrd  Cit.  He  have  his  nose,  and  at  mine  owne 

charge  build 
A  colledge  and  clap't  upon  the  gate. 

^.tb  Cit.  I'll  have  his  little  gut  to  string  a  kit 

with, 
For  certainely  a  royall  gut  will  sound  like  silver. 

Pha.  Would  they  were  in  thy  belly,  and  I  past  7° 
My  paine  once ! 

52  hee's,    D,  B,  he  is.  53  my.    Q6,  F,  omit. 

56  scarcenet.    F  (correctly)  sarcenet.       60  1st.    Q4~ F,  2. 

63  kill,  F.   Q2-Q6,  kills. 

63—64   The  curses  .   .   .  toyet.    Q$— F,  as  one  line. 

70-71   Would  .   .    .   once.    Qi— F,  one  line. 


300  gljilaflfter  [ACT  v. 

$th  Cit.  Good  captaine,  let  me  have  his  liver 

to  feed  ferrets. 

Cap.  Who  will  have  parcels  else  ?  speake. 
Pha.  Good    gods,  consider  me !     I  shall  be 

tortur'd. 
1st  Cit.  Captaine,  He  give  you  the  trimming 

of  your  two-hand  sword,  75 

And  let  me  have  his  skinne  to  make  false  scab- 
bards. 

2nd  Cit.   He  had  no  homes,  sir,  had  he  ? 
Cap.  Noy  sir,  hee's  a  pollard  : 
What  wouldst  thou  do  with  homes  ? 

2nd  Cit.  O,  if  he  had  had, 

I  would  have  made  rare  hafts  and  whistles  of  um ;  80 
But  his  shin  bones,  if  they  be  sound,  shall  serve 
me. 

Enter  Pbilaster. 
All.  Long  live   Philaster,  the  brave   Prince 

Philaster ! 
Pbilaster.  I  thanke  you,  gentlemen.    But  why 

are  these 
Rude  weapons  brought  abroad,  to  teach  your 

hands 
Uncivil  trades  ? 

Cap.  My  royall  Rosicleere,  85 

•ji.  Good.   Q4,  Qsb,  God. 

75—81    Captaine  .   .   .   serve  me.    Qa— F,  as  prose. 
76  two.   Qa,  Q3,  2.    Q4-F  omit. 
79  had  had.   Q4-F,  had.  81  shin.    Ql-Q$,  skin. 


SCENE  IV.]  y&ty\Z8ttt  3OI 


We  are  thy  mirmidons,  thy  guard,  thy  rorers  ; 
And  when  thy  noble  body  is  in  durance, 
Thus  doe  we  clap  our  musty  murrians  on, 
And  trace  the  streets  in  terrour.    Is  it  peace, 
Thou  Mars  of  men  ?  is  the  King  sociable,  90 

And  bids  thee  live  ?  art  thou  above  thy  foemen, 
And  free  as  Phoebus  ?  speak.    If  not,  this  stand 
Of  royall  bloud  shall  be  abroach,  atilt, 
And  runne  even  to  the  lees  of  honour. 

Phi.  Hold,  and  be  satisfied  :   I  am  my  selfe,    95 
Free  as  my  thoughts  are  ;  by  the  gods,  I  am  ! 

Cap.  Art  thou  the  dainty  darling  of  the  King  ? 
Art  thou  the  Hylas  to  our  Hercules  ? 
Doe  the  lords  bow,  and  the  regarded  scarlets 
Kiss  theire  gum'd  gols,  and  cry  "  We  are  your 

servants  "  ?  I0° 

Is  the  court  navigable,  and  the  presence  stucke 
With  flags  of  friendship  ?    If  not,  we  are  thy 

castle, 
And  this  man  sleepes. 

Phi.  I  am  what  I  desire  to  be,  your  friend  ; 
I  am  what  I  was  borne  to  be,  your  prince.  105 

Phot.  Sir,  there  is  some  humanity  in  you  ; 
You  have  a  noble  soule  :   forget  my  name, 
And  know  my  misery  ;  set  me  safe  aboord 

94  And  runne.    Qz-F,  B,  include  in  1.  93. 
101  stucke.    Q5-F,  struck. 
104  /  desire,  F.    Q2-Q6,  1  doe  desire.        107  my.   Q$z,  thy. 


302 

From  these  wild  canibals,  and,  as  I  live, 

He  quit  this  land  forever.    There  is  nothing, —  no 

Perpetual  prisonment,  cold,  hunger,  sicknesse 

Of  all  sorts,  all  dangers,  and  all  together, 

The  worst  company  of  the  worst  men,  madnes, 

age, 

To  be  as  many  creatures  as  a  woman, 
And  do  as  all  they  do,  nay,  to  despaire, —  «s 

But  I  would  rather  make  it  a  new  nature, 
And  live  with  all  these,  then  endure  one  howre 
Amongst  these  wild  dogges. 

Phi,  I  do  pitty  you. — Friends,  discharge  your 

feares ; 

Deliver  me  the  prince.    He  warrant  you  "o 

I  shall  be  old  enough  to  finde  my  safety. 

jrd  Cit.  Good  sir,  take  heede  he  does  not 

hurt  you ; 
Hee's  a  fierce  man,  I  can  tell  you,  sir. 

Cap.  Prince,  by  your  leave,  He  have  a  sur- 

single, 
And  make  you  like  a  hawke.  He  strives.  1*5 

Phi.  Away,  away,  there  is  no  danger  in  him  : 
Alas,  he  had  rather  sleepe  to  shake  his  fit  off! 

in  sicknesse.    Qz-Q6  have  comma  after  sicknesse. 
nz  all  dangers.   Qz-Q6,  of  all  dangers,         all  together.  Qa— 
Q6,  altogether. 

117  these.    Q4-F,  D,  B,  those.          123   Hee's.    D,  He  is. 
125  make,  Qz-Q6.    F,  male ;  Th,  D,  B,  mail. 
He  strives.  Q3-Q4,  Qsb-F,  He  stirs. 


SCENE  IV.]  Ptjllafiftet  303 

Looke  you,  friends,  how  gently  he  leads  !   Upon 

my  word, 
Hee's    tame    enough,  he    need[s]    no    further 

watching. 

Good  my  friends,  goe  to  your  houses,  13° 

And  by  me  have  your  pardons  and  my  love ; 
And  know  there  shall  be  nothing  in  my  power 
You  may  deserve,  but  you  shall  have  your  wishes : 
To  give  you  more  thankes,  were  to  flatter  you. 
Countinue  still  your  love;  and,  for  an  earnest,  135 
Drinke  this.  [Gives  money.'] 

AIL  Long  maist  thou  live,  brave  prince,  brave 

prince,  brave  prince  ! 

Exit  Pbilaster  and  Pbaramond. 
Cap.  Go  thy  wayes,  thou   art  the   king  of 

curtesie ! 

Fall  off  againe,  my  sweete  youths.    Come, 
And  every  man  trace  to  his  house  againe,  14° 

And  hang  his  pewter  up ;  then  to  the  taverne, 
And  bring  your  wives  in  muffes.    We  will  have 

musicke ; 
And  the  red  grape  shall  make  us  dance  and  rise, 

boyes.  Exeunt. 

128  you.    Q6,  your.  129  needs.    Q2-F,  need. 

130-131  Good  .  .  .  love.  Verse-division  of  Edd.  '78,  W, 
D,  B  ;  Qq,  F,  as  prose. 

138    Go  thy  ivayes.    Q4-F  omit. 

139-143  Fall  .  .  .  boyes.  Verse-division  of  W,  D,  B.  Qq, 
F,  four  lines  ending  man,  to,  have,  boyes. 


304  Blaster  [ACT  v. 

[SCENE  V. 

An  Apartment  in  the  Palace.] 

Enter  King,  Arethusa,    Galatea,  Megra,   Cleremont, 
Dion,  Tbrasiline,  Bellario,  and  Attendance. 

King.  Is  it  appeas'd  ? 

Dion.  Sir,  all  is  quiet  as  this  dead  of  night, 
As  peaceable  as  sleepe.    My  Lord  Philaster 
Brings  on  the  prince  himselfe. 

King.  Kind  gentleman ! 

I  will  not  breake  the  least  word  I  have  given         5 
In  promise  to  him :  I  have  heap'd  a  world 
Of  griefe  upon  his  head,  which  yet  I  hope 
To  wash  away. 

Enter  Pbilaster  and  Pharamond. 

Cleremont.          My  lord  is  come. 

King .  My  sonne  ! 

Blest  be  the  time  that  I  have  leave  to  call 
Such  vertue  mine  !     Now  thou  art  in  mine  armes,  10 
Me  thinkes  I  have  a  salve  unto  my  brest 
For  all  the  stings  that  dwell  there.    Streames  of 

griefe 

That  I  have  wrong'd  thee,  and  as  much  of  joy 
That  I  repent  it,  issue  from  mine  eyes : 
Let  them  appease  thee.    Take  thy  right ;  take 

her ;  15 

^  this.    Th,  W,  B,  the. 

4  gentleman,  Th,  W,  D,  B.    Qq,  F,  gentlemen. 


v.]  gljila0ter  305 

She  is  thy  right  too ;  and  forget  to  urge 
My  vexed  soule  with  that  I  did  before. 

Philaster.  Sir,  it  is  blotted  from  my  memory, 
Past  and  forgotten.  —  For  you,  prince  of  Spain, 
Whom  I  have  thus  redeem'd,  you  have  full 

leave  20 

To  make  an  honourable  voyage  home. 
And  if  you  would  goe  furnish'd  to  your  realme 
With  fair  provision,  I  do  see  a  lady, 
Me  thinkes,  would  gladly  beare  you  company : 
How  like  you  this  peece  ? 

Megra.  Sir,  he  likes  it  well,    »S 

For  he  hath  tryed  it,  and  hath  found  it  worth 
His  princely  liking.    We  were  tane  a-bed; 
I  know  your  meaning.    I  am  not  the  first 
That  nature  taught  to  seeke  a  fellow  forth ; 
Can  shame  remain  perpetually  in  me,  30 

And  not  in  others  ?  or  have  princes  salves 
To  cure  ill  names,  that  meaner  people  want  ? 

Phi.  What  meane  you  ? 

Meg.  You  must  get  another  ship, 

To  beare  the  princesse  and  her  boy  together. 

Dion.  How  now  !  35 

Meg.  Others  tooke  me,  and  I  tooke  her  and 
him 

1 8  /'/  it.    F,  is  it.  26  hath  found.    Q3~F  omit  hatb. 

28  know.    Q5a,  knew. 

34  beare.    Q6,  F,  clear.          her.    Q3~F,  the. 


306  pilaster  [ACT  v. 

At  that  all  women  may  be  tane  sometime : 
Ship  us  all  foure,  my  lord  j  we  can  indure 
Weather  and  winde  alike. 

King.  Cleere  thou  thy  selfe,  or  know  not  me 
for  father.  40 

Arethusa.  This  earth,  how  false  it  is !    What 

means  is  left  for  me 

To  cleere  my  self  ?    It  lies  in  your  beleefe : 
My  lords,  beleeve  me ;  and  let  all  things  else 
Struggle  together  to  dishonour  me. 

Bellario.  O,  stop  your  eares,  great  King,  that 

I  may  speake  45 

As  freedome  would  !  Then  I  will  call  this  lady 
As  base  as  are  her  actions :  heare  me,  sir ; 
Beleeve  your  heated  bloud  when  it  rebels 
Against  your  reason,  sooner  then  this  lady. 

Meg.   By  this   good  light,  he  beares  it  han- 
somely.  50 

Phi.  This  lady  !    I  will  sooner  trust  the  wind 
With  feathers,  or  the  troubled  sea  with  pearle, 
Then  her  with  any  thing.    Beleeve  her  not. 
Why,  thinke  you,  if  I  did  beleeve  her  words, 
I  would  outlive  em  ?    Honour  cannot  take  55 

37  sometime,    Q6,  F,  sometimes. 

39  winde.   Q4'34,  wine. 

41    This  earth.    Qz  prints  as  a  separate  line. 

47  are.    Qi  omits  ;  Q4~F,  be. 

48  your.    F,  hour.         heated.    Q3-F,  hated. 
59  tadly.    B  (qy. ),  hardly. 


SCENE  V.]  ^i\Zffttt  307 

Revenge  on  you  j  then  what  were  to  be  knowne 
But  death  ? 

King.         Forget  her,  sir,  since  all  is  knit 
Betweene  us.    But  I  must  request  of  you 
One  favour,  and  will  sadly  be  denyed. 

Phi.  Command,  what  ere  it  be. 

King.  Sweare  to  be  true  60 

To  what  you  promise. 

Phi.  By  the  powers  above, 

Let  it  not  be  the  death  of  her  or  him, 
And  it  is  granted ! 

King.  Beare  away  that  boy 

To  torture :  I  will  have  her  cleerd  or  buried. 

Phi.  O,  let  me  call  my  word  backe,  worthy  sir!  65 
Aske  something  else;  bury  my  life  and  right 
In  one  poore  grave ;  but  doe  not  take  away 
My  life  and  fame  at  once. 

King .  Away  with  him !    It  stands  irrevocable. 

Phi.  Turne  all    your  eyes  on    me !     Heere 

stands  a  man,  7° 

The  falsest  and  the  basest  of  this  world. 
Set  swords  against  this  breast,  some  honest  man, 
For  I  have  livd  till  I  am  pittied ! 
My  former  deedes  were  hateful ;  but  this  last 
Is  pittifull,  for  I  unwillingly  75 

Have  given  the  deere  preserver  of  my  life 

60—6 1   Sweare  .  .  .  promise.    Qz-F  as  one  line. 

63  that.    F,  the.  65  word.    Q4~F,  words. 

74  -were.   Q6,  F,  are. 


308  pilaster  [ACT  v. 

Unto  his  torture.    Is  it  in  the  power 

Of  flesh  and  bloud  to  carry  this,  and  live  ? 

Offers  to  kill  himself e. 

Are.  Dear  sir,  be  patient  yet !    Oh,  stay  that 
hand! 

King.  Sirs,  strip  that  boy. 

Dion.  Come,  sir ;  your  tender  flesh  80 

Will  try  your  constancie. 

Bell.  O,  kill  me,  gentlemen  ! 

Dion.  No.  —  Helpe,  sirs. 

Bell.  Will  you  torture  me. 

King.  Hast  there  j 

Why  stay  you  ? 

Bell.  Then  I  shall  not  breake  my  vow, 

You  know,  just  gods,  though  I  discover  all. 

King.  Hows  that  ?  will  he  confesse  ? 

Dion.  Sir,  so  he  sayes.  85 

King.  Speake  then. 

Bell.  Great  King,  if  you  command 

This  lord  to  talke  with  me  alone,  my  tongue, 
Urg'd  by  my  heart,  shall  utter  all  the  thoughts 
My  youth  hath  knowne ;  and  stranger  things 

then  these 
You  heare  not  often. 

King.  Walk  aside  with  him.         90 

[Dion  and  Bettario  walk  apart.~\ 

79   Oh.   Q4-F,  or.  80  Sirs.    Q5a,  sir. 

80-8 1    Come  .  .  .  constancy.    Verse-division  of  W,  D.    Qq,  F, 
one  line.  8 1  try.   Qz,  tire. 

82-83  Hast  •   •   •  y°u-   QJ-F,  as  one  line. 


SCENE  V.]  ^SL^ttt  309 

Dion.  Why  speak' st  thou  not  ? 

Bell.  Know  you  this  face,  my  lord  ? 

Dion.  No. 

Bell.        Have  you  not  scene  it,  nor  the  like  ? 

Dion.  Yes,  I  have  seen  the  like,  but  readily 
I  know  not  where. 

Bell.  I  have  bin  often  told 

In  court  of  one  Euphrasia,  a  lady,  95 

And  daughter  to  you ;  betwixt  whom  and  me 
(They  that  would  flatter  my   bad  face  would 

sweare) 
There  was  such  strange  resemblance,  that  we 

two 
Could  not  be  knowne  asunder,  drest  alike. 

Dion.  By  heaven,  and  so  there  is  ! 

Bell.  For  her  fair  sake,  100 

Who  now  doth  spend  the  spring  time  of  her  life 
In  holy  pilgrimage,  move  to  the  King, 
That  I  may  scape  this  torture. 

Dion.  But  thou  speak' st 

As  like  Euphrasia  as  thou  dost  looke. 
How  came  it  to  thy  knowledge  that  she  lives      105 
In  pilgrimage  ? 

Bell.  I  know  it  not,  my  lord ; 

But  I  have  heard  it,  and  doe  scarce  beleeve  it. 

Dion.  Oh,  my  shame !  is't  possible  ?    Draw 
neere, 

106  it.   Qsa  omits.  108  is '/.   Th,  W,  D,  is  it. 


310 

That  I  may  gaze  upon  thee.    Art  thou  she, 

Or  else  her  murderer  ?  where  wert  thou  born  ?  no 

Bell.  In  Siracusa. 

Dion.  What's  thy  name  ? 

Bell.  Euphrasia. 

Dion.  O,  tis  just,  tis  she  ! 
Now  I  doe  know  thee.    Oh,  that  thou  hadst 

dyed, 

And  I  had  never  scene  thee  nor  my  shame  ! 
How  shall  I  owne  thee  ?  shall  this  tongue  of  mine  115 
Ere  call  thee  daughter  more  ? 

Bell.  Would  I  had  died  indeed  !  I  wish  it  too  : 
And  so  I  must  have  done  by  vow,  ere  publishd 
What  I  have  told,  but  that  there  was  no  meanes 
To  hide  it  longer.  Yet  I  joy  in  this,  Iao 

The  princesse  is  all  cleere. 

King.  What,  have  you  done  ? 

Dion.  Alls  discovered. 

Phi.  Why  then  hold  you  me? 

All  is  discovered !    Pray  you,  let  me  go. 

He  offers  to  stab  bimselfe. 

King.  Stay  him. 

Are.  What  is  discovered  ? 

Dion.  Why,  my  shame. 

It  is  a  woman  :  let  her  speake  the  rest.  125 

118  I.   Q2,  £3,  omit.       122  Alls.   Q6,  F,  D,  B,  All  is. 
123  All  .  .  .  go.    Q4'39~F  assign  this  and  consequently  the 
marginal  stage-direction  to  "  Dion." 


SCENE  V.]  y&ty\M$ttt  3" 

Phi.  How  ?  that  againe  ! 

Dion.  It  is  a  woman. 

Phi.  Blest  be  you  powers  that  favour  inno- 
cence ! 

King.  Lay  hold  upon  that  lady. 

\_Megra  is  seize  d.~\ 

Phi.  It   is  a  woman,  sir !  —  Harke,  gentle- 
men, 

It  is  a  woman  !  —  Arethusa,  take  13° 

My  soule  into  thy  brest,  that  would  be  gone 
With  joy.    It  is  a  woman  !    Thou  art  faire, 
And  vertuous  still  to  ages,  in  despight 
Of  malice. 

King.  Speake  you,  where  lies  his  shame  ? 

Bell.  I  am  his  daughter.  135 

Phi.  The  gods  are  just. 

D'wn.  I  dare  accuse  none ;  but,  before  you  two, 
The  vertue  of  our  age,  I  bend  my  knee 
For  mercy.  \_Kneels^\ 

Phi.    [raising  bim\.         Take  it  freely;  for  I 

know, 
Though    what   thou   didst   were  undiscreetely 

done,  140 

Twas  meant  well. 

Are.  And  for  me, 

I  have  a  power  to  pardon  sins,  as  oft 
As  any  man  has  power  to  wrong  me. 

134  Of  malice.    Qq,  F,  include  in  preceding  line. 


312  pt)ila$tet  [AcrV. 

Cle.  Noble  and  worthy  ! 

Phi.  But,  Bellario, 

(For  I  must  call  thee  still  so,)  tell  me  why          145 
Thou  didst  conceale  thy  sex.    It  was  a  fault, 
A  fault,  Bellario,  though  thy  other  deeds 
Of  truth  outwaigh'd  it.    All  these  jealousies 
Had  flowne  to  nothing,  if  thou  hadst  discovered 
What  now  we  know. 

Bell.  My  father  oft  would  speake  150 

Your  worth  and  vertue ;  and,  as  I  did  grow 
More  and  more  apprehensive,  I  did  thirst 
To  see  the  man  so  [p]  rais'd.    But  yet  all  this 
Was  but  a  mayden  longing,  to  be  lost 
As  soon  as  found  ;  till,  sitting  in  my  window,    155 
Printing  my  thoughts  in  lawne,  I  saw  a  god, 
I  thought,  (but  it  was  you,)  enter  our  gates : 
My  bloud  flue  out  and  backe  againe,  as  fast 
As  I  had  puft  it  forth  and  suck't  it  in 
Like  breath  :  then  was  I  call'd  away  in  hast       160 
To  enterteine  you.    Never  was  a  man, 
Heav'd  from  a  sheep-coat  to  a  scepter,  rais'd 
So  high  in  thoughts  as  I :  you  left  a  kisse 
Upon  these  lippes  then,  which  I  meane  to  keepe 
From  you  for  ever  :  I  did  heare  you  talke,          165 
Farre  above  singing.    After  you  were  gone, 
I  grew  acquainted  with  my  heart,  and  search'd 

150  oft  would.     Q5-F,  would  oft. 

153  praised.    Edd.  1711.     Qq,  F,  rais'd. 


SCENE  v.]  pilaster  313 

What  stir'd  it  so  :  alas,  I  found  it  love ! 

Yet  farre  from  lust ;  for,  could  I  but  have  liv'd 

In  presence  of  you,  I  had  had  my  end.  170 

For  this  I  did  delude  my  noble  father 

With  a  feign'd  pilgrimage,  and  drest  my  selfe 

In  habit  of  a  boy  ;  and,  for  I  knew 

My  birth  no  match  for  you,  I  was  past  hope 

Of  having  you  ;  and  understanding  well  175 

That  when  I  made  discovery  of  my  sex 

I  could  not  stay  with  you,  I  made  a  vow, 

By  all  the  most  religious  things  a  maid 

Could  call  together,  never  to  be  knowne, 

Whilst  there  was  hope  to  hide  me  from  mens  eyes,  180 

For  other  than  I  seem'd,  that  I  might  ever 

Abide  with  you.    Then  sate  I  by  the  fount, 

Where  first  you  took  me  up. 

King.  Search  out  a  match 

Within  our  kingdome,  where  and  when  thou 

wilt, 

And  I  will  pay  thy  dowry  ;  and  thy  selfe  185 

Wilt  well  deserve  him. 

Bell.  Never,  sir,  will  I 

Marry  ;  it  is  a  thing  within  my  vow. 
But,  if  I  may  have  leave  to  serve  the  princesse, 
To  see  the  vertues  of  her  lord  and  her, 
I  shall  have  hope  to  live. 

Are.  I,  Philaster,  190 

169  but  have.    Q6,  F,  have  but.      184  thou  ivilt.   £53  omits. 


3 14 

Cannot  be  jealous,  though  you  had  a  lady 
Drest  like  a  page  to  serve  you ;  nor  will  I 
Suspect  her  living  here.  —  Come,  live  with  mej 
Live  free  as  I  doe.    She  that  loves  my  lord, 
Curst  be  the  wife  that  hates  her !  195 

Phi.  I  grieve  such  vertue  should  be  laid  in 

earth 

Without  an  heire.  —  Hear  me,  my  royall  father : 
Wrong  not  the  freedome  of  our  soules  so  much, 
To  thinke  to  take  revenge  of  that  base  woman  ; 
Her  malice  cannot  hurt  us.  Set  her  free  200 

As  she  was  borne,  saving  from  shame  and  sinne. 
King.  Set    her    at  liberty.  —  But    leave    the 

court; 

This  is  no  place  for  such.  —  You,  Pharamond, 
Shall  have  free  passage,  and  a  conduct  home 
Worthy  so    great  a  prince.    When   you  come 

there,  105 

Remember  twas  your  faults  that  lost  you  her, 
And  not  my  purpos'd  will. 

Pbaramond.  I  do  confess, 

Renowned  sir. 

King.    Last,  joyne  your  hands  in  one.    En- 
joy, Philaster, 

This  kingdome,  which  is  yours,  and,  after  me,  *io 
What  ever  I  call  mine.    My  blessing  on  you  ! 
All  happy  houres  be  at  your  marriage  joyes, 
196  -venue.    F,  virtues.  200  her.   Q5a,  us. 


SCENE  V.]  f^tlatftet  3J5 

That  you  may  grow  your  selves  over  all  lands, 
And  live  to  see  your  plenteous  branches  spring 
Wherever  there  is  sunne  !    Let  princes  learn 
By  this  to  rule  the  passions  of  their  blood ; 
For  what  heaven  wills  can  never  be  withstood. 

Exeunt  omnes. 

213  your  selves.    Q5a,  your  self. 

214  live.    Q2-Q4,  like. 

FINIS. 


to 

For  the  meaning  of  single  "words  see  the  Glossary. 

DATE.  In  the  Scourge  of  Folly  by  John  Davies  of  Hereford,  en- 
tered S.  R.  Oct.  8,  1610,  occurs  an  epigram  addressed  to  Fletcher, 
the  first  words  of  which,  "Love  lies  ableeding,"  refer  to  the  second 
title  of  Philaster.  The  play  must,  then,  have  been  written  and  acted 
before  Oct.  8,  1610  ;  and  the  date  generally  suggested  for  its  first 
presentation,  1608,  seems  a  plausible  conjecture. 

STAGE  HISTORY.  Philaster  was  first  acted  by  the  King's  Men  at 
either  the  Globe  or  the  Blackfriars  theatre,  and  while  Shakespeare 
was  still  writing  for  that  company.  It  was  acted  at  court  1612-13, 
and  was  popular  until  the  closing  of  the  theatres  in  1642.  A  droll, 
the  Club  Men,  based  on  Act  v,  Scene  4,  was  performed  at  the 
Red  Bull  during  the  suppression  of  the  theatres  ;  and  the  play  was 
revived  immediately  after  the  Restoration.  Pepys  saw  it  in  1 66 1 
and  again  in  1668,  when  Hart  was  playing  Philaster,  and  Nell 
Gwynne,  Bellario.  It  was  also  played  in  Lincolns-Inn-Fields  when 
the  women  acted  alone,  perhaps  in  1664.  In  1695,  Phi/aster, 
"  Revis'd  and  the  Two  last  Acts  new  Written,"  by  Elkanah  Settle, 
was  produced  at  the  Theatre  Royal ;  and  another  alteration  appeared 
in  the  works  of  George  Villiers,  Duke  of  Buckingham,  1714,  en- 
titled the  Restauration.  As  Dyce  remarks,  it  was  probably  not 
written  by  the  Duke,  and  never  acted.  In  1711,  when  Philaster 
was  revived  at  Drury  Lane,  it  had  not  been  acted  there  for  eleven 
years  ;  and  after  1715  it  was  apparently  not  acted  until  1763,  when 
it  was  revived  with  considerable  alterations  by  the  elder  Colman. 
Powell  made  his  first  appearance  at  this  performance,  and  the  play 
scored  a  success.  Colman's  revision  was  printed  in  his  Works, 
1777,  and  was  acted  off  and  on  until  the  end  of  the  century. 

RESEMBLANCES  TO  CYMBELINE.  The  resemblances  between 
Philaster  and  Cymbeline  have  been  frequently  noted  and  discussed.1 
Some  parallel  passages  may  be  instanced  :  the  first  sixty  lines  of 
each  play;  Arethusa's  speech,  in,  2,  162-166,  and  Imogen's, 
ill,  4,  60—66  ;  Leonatus'  soliloquy,  n,  5,  8ff,  and  Philaster's,  in, 
a,  105-128  ;  Philaster's  speech  after  he  has  been  hurt  by  the 

I  Especially  in  Leonhardt's  Uebtr  Bexiehungen  von  .  ,  .  Philaster, 
Hamlet,  und  Cjmbeline,  Anglia,  vol.  8,  and  The  Influence  of  Beaumont 
and  Fletcher  on  Shaktfere,  by  the  present  editor,  chap.  9. 


jjiotes  to  ptjilatfter  317 

country  fellow,  iv,  3,  105—110,  and  lachimo's  after  he  has  been 
overcome  by  Leonatus,  v,  2,  1-6  ;  also  the  quibbles  on  strange  and 
stranger,  Philaster,  i,  I,  93-97,  and  Cymie/ine,  11,  I.  The  resem- 
blances, however,  are  not  so  much  in  parallel  passages  as  in  situations 
and  characters.  The  relations  and  experiences  of  Leonatus  and 
Imogen  are  similar  to  those  of  Philaster  and  Arethusa  ;  while  as  a 
page  and  in  the  country  scenes  Imogen  resembles  Bellario.  In  each 
play  the  king's  attempt  to  marry  the  heiress  of  the  crown  to  an 
unworthy  braggart  results  in  the  estrangement  of  the  true  lovers  and 
the  slander  of  the  heroine,  but  tragedy  is  eventually  averted  by  the 
confession  of  the  slanderer  and  a  general  forgiveness.  In  both  plays, 
an  idyllic  element  is  contrasted  with  the  tragic  and  centres  about  a 
maiden  disguised  as  a  page  who  suffers  privations  and  who  constantly 
appeals  to  our  sympathies  through  the  utter  devotion  and  ideal 
tenderness  of  her  character.  The  two  kings  are  similar  in  character 
and  actions  and  Cloten  and  Pharamond  are  both  brutish  braggarts,  and 
each  serves  to  supply  the  comic  element  of  the  play.  So  noticeable 
are  these  simikrities  and  the  general  resemblance  of  the  plays  in 
material  and  construction  that  it  seems  likely  that  one  play  owes 
something  to  the  other.  The  probability  of  direct  indebtedness  is 
increased  by  the  fact  that  the  two  plays  were  acted  within  a  year  or 
two  of  each  other  and  by  the  same  theatrical  company.  It  is  not 
possible  to  determine  with  certainty  which  play  was  the  earlier,  and 
the  question  of  which  author  was  the  borrower  rests  on  considera- 
tions too  complex  to  be  treated  here.  To  the  present  editor,  it 
seems  probable  that  Philaster  was  the  earlier,  that  in  its  essential 
traits  it  was  an  innovation,  a  new  type  of  play,  and  that  its  success 
had  an  important  influence  on  Shakespeare's  choice  and  treatment 
of  material  in  Cymbeline. 

Actus  I  ...  Actus  Quintus.  Here  follow  the  opening  of 
Act  i,  Scene  I  (corresponding  to  11.  1-121  of  the  text)  and  the  last 
scene  of  Act  v,  as  they  appear  in  Qi.  They  are  printed  line  for 
line  and  literatim. 

Actus  I.    Scoen.  I. 

Enter  at  seuerall  doores  Lord  Lyon,  Trasiline,  folloives  bimt 
Clerimon  meetes  them. 

TRASILINE. 
Well  ore  tane  my  Lord. 


318 


to 


LYON.    Noble  friend  welcome,  and  see  who  encoun- 
ters us,  honourable  good  Clenmon. 

CLE.    My  good  Lord  Lyon,  most  happily  met  wor- 
thy Trasiline, 

Come  gallants,  what's  the  newes, 
the  season  affoords  us  variety, 
the  nouilsts  of  our  time  runnes  on  heapes, 
to  glut  their  itching  eares  with  airie  sounds, 
trotting  to'th  burse  ;  and  in  the  Temple  walke 
with  greater  zeale  to  heare  a  nouall  lye, 
than  pyous  Anthum  tho  chanted  by  Cherubins. 

TRAUS.    True  Sir  : 

and  holds  set  counsels,  to  vent  their  braine  sicke  opinions 
with  presagements  what  all  states  shall  designe. 

CLE.    Thats  as  their  intelligence  serues. 

LYON.    And  that  shall  serue  as  long  as  inuention  lastes, 
there  dreams  they  relate,  as  spoke  from  Oracles, 
or  if  the  gods  should  hold  a  synod,  and  make  them  their  secritaries, 
they  will  diuine  and  prophecie  too  :  but  come  and  speake  your  thoughts 
of  the  intended  marriage  with  the  Spanish  Prince, 
He  is  come  you  see,  and  brauely  entertainde. 

TRAS.    Hee  is  so,  but  not  married  yet. 

CLE.  But  like  to  be,  and  shall  have  in  dowry  with  the  Princesse 
this  Kingdome  of  Cycele. 

LEON.  Soft  and  faire,  there  is  more  will  forbid  the  baines,  then 
say  amen  to  the  marriage  :  though  the  King  vsurped  the  Kingdome 
during  the  non-age  of  the  Prince  Phylaster,  hee  must  not  thinke  to 
bereaue  him  of  it  quite  ;  hee  is  now  come  to  yeares  to  claime  the 
Crowne. 

TRA.    And  lose  his  head  i'  the  asking. 

LEON.  A  diadem  worn  by  a  headlesse  King  wold  be  wonderous, 
Phylaster  is  too  weake  in  power. 

CLE.    He  hath  many  friends. 

LEON.    And  few  helpers. 

TRA.    The  people  loue  him. 

LEON.    I  grant  it,  that  the  King  knowes  too  well, 
And  makis  this  Contract  to  make  his  faction  strong  : 
Whats  a  giddy-headed  multitude, 
That's  not  Disciplinde  nor  trainde  up  in  Armes, 


to  p^ilasftn:  319 

To  be  trusted  vnto  ?   No,  he  that  will 

Bandy  for  a  Monarchic,  must  prouide 

Brave  marshall  troopes  with  resolution  armde, 

To  stand  the  shock  of  bloudy  doubtful  warre, 

Nor  danted  though  disastrous  Fate  doth  frowne, 

And  spit  all  spightfull  fury  in  their  face  : 

Defying  horror  in  her  ugliest  forme, 

And  growes  more  valiant,  the  more  danger  threats  ; 

Or  let  leane  famine  her  affliction  send, 

Whose  pining  plagues  a  second  hel  doth  bring, 

Thei'le  hold  their  courage  in  her  height  of  spleene, 

Till  valour  win  plenty  to  supply  them, 

What  thinke  ye,  would  yer  feast-hunting  Citizens 

Indure  this  ? 

TRA.  No  sir,  a  faire  march  a  mile  out  of  town  that  their  wiues  may 
bring  them  their  dinners,  is  the  hottest  seruice  that  they  are  trained 
vp  to. 

OLE.    I  could  wish  their  experience  answered  their  loues, 
Then  should  the  much  too  much  wrongd  Phylaster, 
Possesse  his  right  in  spight  of  Don  and  the  diuell. 

TRA.    My  heart  is  with  your  wishes. 

LEON.    And  so  is  mine, 

And  so  should  all  that  loues  their  true  borne  Prince, 
Then  let  vs  ioyne  our  Forces  with  our  mindes, 
In  whats  our  power  to  right  this  wronged  Lord, 
And  watch  aduantage  as  best  may  fit  the  time 
To  stir  the  murmuring  people  vp, 
Who  is  already  possest  with  his  wrongs, 
And  easily  would  in  rebellion  rise, 
Which  full  well  the  King  doth  both  know  and  feare, 
But  first  our  seruice  wee'le  proffer  to  the  Prince, 
And  set  our  projects  as  he  accepts  of  vs ; 

But  husht,  the  King  is  comming.  sound  musickc  within. 

Enter  the  King,  Pharamont,  the  Princesse,  the  Lady  Gallatea,  the 
Lady  Megra,  a  Gentlewoman,  "with  Lords  attending,  the  King 
takes  his  seate. 

KING.    Faire  Prince, 
Since  heauens  great  guider  furthers  our  intents, 


320  j£ote$  to 

And  brought  you  with  safety  here  to  arriue 

Within  our  Kingdome  and  Court  of  Cycele, 

We  bid  you  most  welcome,  Princely  Pharamont, 

And  that  our  Kingly  bounty  shall  confirme, 

Zuen  whilst  the  Heauens  hold  so  propitious  aspect 

Wee'le  crowne  your  wisht  desires  (with  our  owne) 

Lend  me  your  hand  sweet  Prince,  hereby  enioy 

A  full  fruition  of  your  best  contents, 

The  interest  I  hold  I  doe  possesse  you  with, 

Onely  a  fathers  care,  and  prayers  retaine, 

That  heauen  may  heape  on  blessings,  take  her  Prince, 

Actus  V.    Scoen  V. 

Enter  an  aide  Captaine,  -with  a  crew  of  Citizens,  leading  PHAR- 
AMONT prisoner. 

CAP.  Come  my  braue  Mermedons,  fal  on,  let  your  caps  swarm, 
&  your  nimble  tongues  forget  your  gibrish,  of  what  you  lack,  and 
set  your  mouthes  ope'  children,  till  your  pallats  fall  frighted  halfe  a 
fathom  past  the  cure  of  baysalt  &  grosse  pepper  ;  and  then  crie  Phy- 
laster, braue  Phylaster.  Let  Pbylaster  be  deep  in  request,  my 
ding-a-dings,  my  paire  of  deare  Indentures  :  King  of  clubs,  the 
your  cut  -water-chamlets,  and  your  painting  :  let  not  your  hasty 
silkes  deerly  belouers  of  Custards  &  Cheescakes,  or  your  branch 
cloth  of  bodkins,  or  your  tyffenies,  your  robbin-hood  scarlet  and 
Johns,  tie  your  affections  in  durance  to  your  shops,  my  dainty  duck- 
ers,  vp  with  your  three  pil'd  spirits,  that  rightvalourous,  and  let  your 
accute  colours  make  the  King  to  feele  the  measure  of  your  might- 
inesse  ;  Phylaster,  cry,  myrose  nobles,  cry. 

OMNES.    Phylaster,  Phylaster. 

CAP.   How  doe  you  like  this,  my  Lord  prisoner  ? 
These  are  mad  boyes  I  can  tell  you, 
These  bee  things  that  will  not  strike  top-sayle  to  a  Foyst. 
And  let  a  Man  of  warre,  an  Argosea, 
Stoope  to  carry  coales. 

PHAR.   Why,  you  damn'd  slaues,  doe  you  know  who  I  am  ? 

CAP.  Yes,  my  pretie  Prince  of  puppits,  we  do  know,  and  giue 
you  gentle  warning,  you  talke  no  more  such  bugs  words,  left  that 


to  pilaster  321 


sodden  Crowne  should  be  scracht  with  a  musket  ;  deare  Prince  pip- 
pin, I'le  haue  you  codled,  let  him  loose  my  spirits,  and  make  a  ring 
with  your  bils  my  hearts  :  Now  let  mee  see  what  this  braue  man 
dares  doe  :  note  sir,  haue  at  you  with  this  washing  blow,  here  I  lie, 
doe  you  huffe  sweete  Prince  ?  I  could  hock  your  grace,  and  hang 
you  crosse  leg'd  like  a  Hare  at  a  Poulters  stall  ;  and  do  thus. 

PHAR.   Gentlemen,  honest  Gentlemen  — 

I  SOVL.  A  speakes  treason  Captaine,  shal's  knock  him 
downe  ? 

CAP.   Hold,  I  say. 

Z  SOVL.  Good  Captaine  let  me  haue  one  mal  at's  mazard,  I 
feele  my  stomacke  strangely  prouoked  to  bee  at  his  Spanish  pot- 
nowle,  shal's  kill  him  ? 

OMNES.   I,  kill  him,  kill  Mm. 

CAP.   Againe  I  say  hold. 

3  SOVL.   O  how  ranke  he  lookes,  sweete  Captaine  let's  geld  him, 
and  send  his  dowsets  for  a  dish  to  the  Burdello. 

4  SOVL.   No,  let's  rather  sell  them  to  some  woman   Chymist, 
that  extractions,  shee  might  draw  an  excellent  prouocatiue  oyle  from 
vseth  *  them,  that  might  be  very  vsefiill. 

CAP.  You  see,  my  scuruy  Don,  how  precious  you  are  in  es- 
teem amongst  vs,  had  you  not  beene  better  kept  at  home,  I  thinke 
you  had  :  must  you  needes  come  amongst  vs,  to  haue  your  saffron 
hide  taw'd  as  wee  intend  it  :  My  Don,  Phy  taster  must  suffer  death 
to  satisfie  your  melancholly  spleene,  he  must  my  Don,  he  must; 
but  we  your  Physitians,  hold  it  fit  that  you  bleede  for  it  :  Come  my 
robusticks,  my  braue  regiment  of  rattle  makers,  let'scala  common 
cornuted  counsel!,  and  like  graue  Senators,  beare  vp  our  brancht 
crests,  in  sitting  vpon  the  seuerall  tortures  we  shall  put  him  to,  and 
with  as  little  sense  as  may  be,  put  your  wils  in  execution. 

SOME  CRIES.    Burne  him,  burne  him. 

OTHERS.   Hang  him,  hang  him.  Enter  PHYLASTER. 

CAP.  No,  rather  let's  carbinade  his  cods-head,  and  cut  him  to 
collops  :  shall  I  begin  ? 

PHI.  Stay  your  furies  my  louing  Countrimen. 

OMNES.   Phylaster  is  come,  Phylaster,  Phylaster. 

I  vseth,  i.  e.,  useth  to  make,  should  evidently  come  before  extractions 
in  the  preceding  line. 


322  $ote$  to 

CAP.  My  porcupines  of  spite,  make  roome  I  say,  that  I  may 
salute  my  braue  Prince  :  and  is  Prince  P Ay/aster  at  liberty  ? 

PHI.   I  am,  most  louing  countrimen. 

CAP.  Then  giue  me  thy  Princely  goll,  which  thus  I  kisse,  to 
whom  I  crouch  and  bow  ;  But  see  my  royall  sparke,  this  head- 
strong swarme  that  follow  me  humming  like  a  master  Bee,  haue  I 
led  forth  their  Hiues,  and  being  on  wing,  and  in  our  heady  flight, 
haue  seazed  him  shall  suffer  for  thy  wrongs. 

OMNES.   I,  I,  let's  kill  him,  kill  him. 

PHI.      But  heare  me,  Countrimen. 

CAP.      Heare  the  Prince,  I  say,  heare  Phylaster. 

OMNES.      I,  I,  heare  the  Prince,  heare  the  Prince. 

PHI.  My  comming  is  to  giue  you  thanks,  my  deere  Countri- 
men, whose  powerfull  sway  hath  curb'd  the  prossecuting  fury  of 
my  foes. 

OMNES.     We  will  curb  vm,  we  will  curb  vm. 

PHI.      I  finde  you  will, 
But  if  my  intrest  in  your  loues  be  such, 
As  the  world  takes  notice  of,  Let  me  craue 
You  would  deliuer  Pharamont  to  my  hand, 

And  from  me  accept  this  Giuet  <vm  his  purse. 

Testimonie  of  my  loue. 

Which  is  but  a  pittance  of  those  ample  thankes, 
Which  shall  redowne  with  showred  courtesies. 

CAP.  Take  him  to  thee  braue  Prince,  and  we  thy  bounty 
thankefully  accept,  and  will  drinke  thy  health,  thy  perpetuall  health 
my  Prince,  whilst  memory  lasts  amongst  vs,  we  are  thy  Mermidons, 
my  Achillh  :  we  are  those  will  follow  thee,  and  in  thy  seruice  will 
scowre  our  rusty  murins  and  our  billbow-blades,  most  noble  Phylas- 
ter,  we  will :  Come  my  ro  wrists  let's  retyer  till  occasion  calls  vs  to 
attend  the  noble  Phylaster. 

OMNES.      Phylaster,  Phylaster,   Phylaster. 

Exit  CAPTAINE,  and  Citizens. 

PHAR.     Worthy  sir,  I  owe  you  a  life, 
For  but  your  selfe  theres  nought  could  haue  preuail'd. 

PHI.     Tis  the  least  of  seruice  that  I  owe  the  King, 
Who  was  carefull  to  preserue  ye. 


to  Blaster  323 


Enter  LEON,  TRASILINE,  and  CLERIMON. 

TRA.     I  euer  thought  the  boy  was  honest. 

LEON.      Well,  tis  a  braue  boy  Gentlemen. 

CLE.      Yet  you  'Id  not  beleeue  this. 

LEON.     A  plague  on  my  forwardnesse,  what  a  villaine  was  I,  to 
wrong  vm  so  ;  a  mischiefe  on  my  muddy  braines,  was  I  mad  ? 

TRA.      A  little  frantick  in  your  rash  attempt,  but  that  was  your 
love  to  Phylaster,  sir. 

LEON.     A  pox  on  such  loue,  haue  you  any  hope   my  counti- 
nance  will  ere  serue  me  to  looke  on  them  ? 

CLE.      O  very  well  Sir. 

LEON.      Very  ill  Sir,  vds  death,  I  could  beate  out  my  braines,  or 
hang  my  selfe  in  reuenge. 

CLE.  There  would  be  little  gotten  by  it,  ene  keepe  you  as  ye  are. 

LEON.   An  excellent  boy,  Gentlemen  beleeue  it,  harke  the  King 
is  comming.  Cornets  sounds. 

Enter  the  King,  Princesse,  GALLATEA,  MEGRA,  BELLARIO,  a  Gen- 
tle-woman, and  other  attendants. 

K.   No  newes  of  his  returne, 
Will  not  this  rable  multitude  be  appeas'd  ? 
I  feare  their  outrage,  lest  it  should  extend 
With  dangering  of  Pharamonts  life. 

Enter  PHILASTER  -with  PHARAMONT. 

LEON.   See  Sir,  P  Ay  faster  is  return'  d. 

PHI.   Royall  Sir, 

Receiue  into  your  bosome  your  desired  peace, 
Those  discontented  mutineaeres  be  appeasde, 
And  this  fortaigne  Prince  in  safety. 

K.  How  happie  I  am  in  thee  Pbylaster  ? 
Whose  excellent  vertues  begets  a  world  of  loue, 
I  am  indebted  to  thee  for  a  Kingdome. 
I  here  surrender  vp  all  Soueraignetie. 

Raigne  peacefully  with  thy  espoused  Bride,        Delivers  his  Cro-wne 
Ashume  my  Son  to  take  what  is  thy  due.  to  Aim. 

PHA.   How  Sir,  yer  son,  what  am  I  then,  your  Daughter  you 
gave  to  me. 

KIN.   But  heauen  hath  made  asignement  vnto  him, 


324  jjiotes  to  pilaster 

And  brought  your  contract  to  anullity  : 

Sir,  your  entertainment  hath  beene  most  faire, 

Had  not  your  hell-bred  lust  dride  vp  the  spring, 

From  whence  flow'd  forth  those  fauours  that  you  found : 

I  am  glad  to  see  you  safe,  let  this  suffice, 

Your  selfe  hath  crost  your  selfe. 

LEON.  They  are  married  sir. 

PHAR.   How  married?   I  hope  your  highnesse  will  not  vse  me  so, 
I  came  not  to  be  disgraced,  and  returne  alone. 

KING.   I  cannot  helpe  it  sir. 

LEON.   To  returne  alone,  you  neede  not  sir, 
Here  is  one  will  beare  you  company. 
You  know  this  Ladies  proofe,  if  you 
Fail'd  not  in  the  say-taging.1 

ME.   I  hold  your  scoffes  in  vildest  base  contempt, 
Or  is  there  said  or  done,  ought  I  repent, 
But  can  retort  euen  to  your  grinning  teeths, 
Your  worst  of  spights,  tho  Princesse  lofty  steps 
May  not  be  tract,  yet  may  they  tread  awry, 
That  boy  there 

BEL.   If  to  me  ye  speake  Lady, 
I  must  tell  you,  youhaue  lost  your  selfe 
In  your  too  much  forwardnesse,  and  hath  forgot 
Both  modesty  and  truth,  with  what  impudence 
You  haue  throwne  most  damnable  aspertions 
On  that  noble  Princesse  and  my  selfe  :  witnesse  the  world ; 
Beholde  me  sir.  Kneeles  to  LEON  and  discouers   her  haire. 

LEON.   I  should  know  this  face  ;   my  daughter 

BEL.   The  same  sir. 

PRIN.    How,  our  sometime  Page,  Bellario,  turn'd  woman  ? 

BEL.   Madame,  the  cause  induc't  me  to  transforme  my  selfe, 
Proceeded  from  a  respectiue  modest 
Affection  I  bare  to  my  my  Lord, 
The  Prince  Phylaster,  to  do  him  seruice, 
As  farre  from  any  laciuious  thought, 
As  that  Lady  is  farre  from  go  odnesse, 
And  if  my  true  intents  may  be  beleeued, 

I  sar-taging.    Misprint  for  say-taking,  taking  the  assay. 


to  Blaster  325 


And  from  your  Highnesse  Madame,  pardon  finde, 
You  haue  the  truth. 

PRIN.   I  doe  beleeue  thee,  Bellario  I  shall  call  thee  still. 

PHI.   The  faithfullest  seruant  that  euer  gaue  attendance. 

LEON.   Now  Lady  lust,  what  say  you  to'th  boy  now  j 
Doe  you  hang  the  head,  do  ye,  shame  would  steale 
Into  your  face,  if  ye  had  grace  to  entertaine  it, 
Do  ye  slinke  away  ?  Exit  MEGRA  hiding  her  face. 

KING.   Giue  present  order  she  be  banisht  the  Court, 
And  straightly  confinde  till  our  further 
Pleasure  is  knowne. 

PHAR.  Heres  such  an  age  of  transformation,  that  I  doe  not  know 
how  to  trust  my  selfe,  I'le  get  me  gone  to  :  Sir,  the  disparage- 
ment you  haue  done,  must  be  cald  in  question.  I  haue  power  to 
right  my  selfe,  and  will.  Exit  PHARAMONT. 

KING.   We  feare  ye  not  Sir. 

PHI.   Let  a  strong  conuoy  guard  him  through  the  Kingdome, 
With  him,  let's  part  with  all  our  cares  and  feare, 
And  Crowne  with  ioy  our  happy  loues  successe. 

KING.   Which  to  make  more  full,  Lady  Gallatea 
Let  honour'  d  Clerimont  acceptance  finde 
In  your  chast  thoughts. 

PHI.  Tis  my  sute  too. 

PRIN.  Such  royall  spokes-men  must  not  be  deni'd. 

GAL.   Nor  shall  not,  Madame. 

KING.  Then  thus  I  ioyne  your  hands. 

GAL.   Our  hearts  were  knit  before.  They  tosse. 

PHI.   But  tis  you  Lady,  must  make  all  compleat, 
And  giues  a  full  perod  to  content, 
Let  your  loues  cordiall  againe  reuiue, 
The  drooping  spirits  of  noble  Trasiline, 
What  saies  Lord  Leon  to  it  ? 

LEON.   Marry  my  Lord  I  say,  I  know  she  once  lou'd  him. 
At  least  made  shew  she  did, 
But  since  tis  my  Lord  Phylasters  desire, 
I'le  make  a  surrender  of  all  the  right 
A  father  has  in  her  ;  here  take  her  Sir, 
With  all  my  heart,  and  heauen  give  you  ioy. 


326  jpotes  to 

KING.   Then  let  vs  in  these  nuptuall  feastes  to  hold, 
Heauen  hath  decreed,  and  Fate  stands  vncontrold. 

FINIS. 


159.   Enter  Galatea,  a  Lady,  and   Megra.   The 

transposition  of  Lady  and  Megra  in  the  entry  and  in  the  speeches 
which  follow  is  rendered  necessary  by  Dion's  description  of  "  the 
first,"  "  the  second,"  and  "  the  last "  of  the  entering  ladies,  and 
by  our  subsequent  knowledge  of  Megra's  character.  This  Lady 
seems  to  be  the  "old  Wanton  Lady,  or  Croane  "  in  the  Dramatis 
Personae  of  Q%.  There  is  no  corresponding  character  in  the  Dra- 
matis Personal  of  Qi  ;  the  "  waiting  Gentlewoman  "  of  Qi  corre- 
sponding to  "  Another  Lady  attending  the  Princesse  "  of  Q3- 

162,  in.  discourse  and  knowledge.  "Where  dis- 
course is  coupled  with  a  word  expressive  of  a  faculty  of  the  mind  — 
as  thought,  reason,  judgment,  etc.  —  it  is  to  be  considered  as  merely 
expletive  j  chameleon-like  taking  the  colour  of  the  word  to  which 
it  is  attached."  Daniel  (B). 

1 68,  215.    lookes  like  a  tooth-drawer.    Ray  b  his 
Pro-verbs  (p.  65,  ed.  1768)  defines  this  as  looking  "  very  thin  and 
meagre.  * ' 

169,  238-39.   him  That  made  the  world  his.  Alex- 
ander the  Great. 

170,  252.   a  patterne  of  succession.    A  pattern  to  suc- 
ceeding kings. 

170,258.  a  prince  of  wax.  Perfect,  as  if  modelled  in  wax. 
Cf.  the  Nurse's  description  of  Paris,  "a  man  of  wax  "  in  Romeo 
and  Juliet,  I,  iii,  76.  Galatea's  reply,  A  dog  it  is,  refers  to  a  cant 
phrase,  "  a  dog  of  wax,"  found  in  Jonson's  Tale  of  a  Tub,  H,  ii,  and 
in  Sir  John  Oldcastle,  n,  ii,  and  the  Miseries  of  Enforced  Mar- 
riage, i,  ii.  The  phrase  has  not  been  explained  ;  here  Galatea 
intends  to  say  that  Pharamond  is  a  nonentity. 

170,  263.  and  now  nought  but  hopes  and  feares. 
And,  to  supply  my  wants,  now  nought  but  hopes  and  fears.  There 
is,  perhaps,  some  corruption  here. 

171,275.  true  tenant.  Theobald  read,  true  recreant;  Mitford 


to  J^ilastrr  327 


suggested,  true  tyrant;  Dyce  noted  "truant"  of  Qr,  which  had 
also  been  conjectured  by  Seward  ;  but  Dyce  retained  tenant,  inter- 
preting, "if  he  [shaking  like  a  true  tenant  —  like  one  who  has 
only  temporary  possession]  give  not  back  his  crown."  Daniel  (B) 
adopts  "truant"  of  Qi,  and  adds  that  "the  context  might  sug- 
gest to  a  bold  emendator  —  '  like  one  in  a  true  tertian,'  or  '  like  as 
in  a  true  tertian.''  "  Tenant  seems  no  more  objectionable  than  any 
of  the  other  readings. 

173,  306.    hot  at  hand.    Cf.  Julius  Caesar,  iv,  ii,  23. 

174,  323.    I.    This  alteration  of  the  text  adopted  by  all  editors 
since  Weber,  was  due  to  a  conjecture  by  Mason.   The  meaning  is  : 
"  you  would  be  courtiers  to  me  if  I  could  be  induced  not  to  hazard 
the  fortunes  of  your  families  by  offending  the  king." 

I75>  337-  Male-dragons.  The  old  editions  all  capitalize 
and  hyphen.  Male,  i.  e.  masculine. 

J93>  3-  the  reverend  mother.  The  mother  of  the  maids, 
the  woman  in  charge  of  the  attendants  of  the  princess. 

195,  24—25.  Thiswyer.  Wire  was  much  used  in  women's 
head-dresses. 

I95>  29-  flO  hand  behind  it.  "  No  acknowledgement  of 
indebtedness.  '  '  B. 

197,  62.  white  mony.  "  A  cant  term  for  silver  specie.  "  D. 

197,  66-67.  camphier  constitutions.  "  Camphor  was 
anciently  classed  among  those  articles  of  the  materia  medica  which 
were  cold  in  an  eminent  degree."  W. 

205,  35.  Thou  disclaimst  in  me.  Thou  disclaim'st  any 
right  in  me  to  your  service. 

210,  42.  had  been  better  have.  A  common  form  of 
expression.  Daniel  instances  Othello,  HI,  iii,  362.  The  reading 
of  Qi,  had  been  better,  is  also  not  uncommon. 

2l8,  187.  nine  worthies.  Joshua,  Judas  Maccabaeus, 
David,  Alexander  the  Great,  Hector,  Julius  Caesar,  Charlemagne, 
Godfrey  of  Bouillon,  and  King  Arthur. 

221,21.  Against  their  nature.  "  Contrary  to  the  nature 
of  the  discordant  multitude."  Mason. 

226,  115.  divells.  Dyce  thinks  this  may  be  a  misprint  caught 
from  the  preceding  line,  and  notes  that  in  the  Restauration 
"  fiends"  is  substituted,  and  in  Settle's  alteration,  "  furies." 


328  jjiote*  to 

244,109.    For  bursting.    For  fear  of  bursting. 

244^  114.  like  scorpions.  Bullen  quotes  the  Theater  of 
Insects,  1658,  scorpions  "  being  laid  to  their  own  wounds  they  made, 
they  cure  them,  as  is  generally  known." 

249,  27.  sicke  mans  salve.  An  allusion  to  the  Sicke 
Man"  s  Salve,  a  work  by  Thomas  Becon,  first  printed  in  1561,  and 
frequently  alluded  to  by  the  dramatists.  Another  work,  A  Salve 
for  a  Sickman,  by  William  Perkins,  was  published  in  1595. 

249,  29.  the  helpe  of  an  almanacke.    Almanacs  con- 
tained directions  for  the  proper  times  for  blood-letting. 

250,  38-39.  that  spoiles  her  coate.   "The  allusion  is 
to  mullets,  or  stars,  introduced  into  coats  of  arms,  to  distinguish  the 
younger  branches  of  a  family,  which  of  course  denote  inferiority." 
Mason. 

251,  12.  hee  forsooke  the  say,  for  paying  ten  shil- 
lings.   After  the  deer  had  been  hunted  down,  it  was  customary 
for  the  keeper  to  offer  his  knife  to  the  man  of  first  distinction  in 
the  company  in  order  that  he  might  rip  up  the  belly  and  thus  take 
"assay"  of  the  fatness  and  quality  of  the  game.    Pharamond  de- 
clined the  offer  in  order  to  escape  the  fee  of  ten  shillings.     For, 
for  fear  of,  as  244,   109. 

252,  1 8.  an  old  Sir  Tristram.    This  hero  of  romance 
was  an  especial  patron  of  the  chase. 

253,  Enter  Philaster.    Here,  as  Daniel  notes,  a  new  scene 
should  be  marked ;  the  division  is  that  of  Weber,  followed  by  all 
subsequent  editors. 

253,  40.  Oh,  that,  etc.  "This  speech  is  beautifully  imi- 
tated from  the  opening  of  Juvenal's  Sixth  Satire."  Dyce. 

264,  54.  Sirs.  "Sir"  was  a  term  of  address  to  women  as 
well  as  men.  It  is  used  again  in  v,  ii,  39. 

278,  129.  I  •was  SO.  "  I  was,  in  a  figurative  sense,  disguised; 
the  word  is  still  applied  in  vulgar  language  to  those  who  are  dis- 
ordered or  deformed  by  drink."  Dyce. 

283,  39-  Your  life  no  price  compar'd  to  mine. 
Mason's  emendation  seems  required  for  the  sense  :  Philaster  sup- 
poses that  Bellario  and  Arethusa  have  changed  places  with  him  ; 
the  wrong  has  come  to  him  from  them ;  and  their  lives  are  of  no 
value  compared  with  his ;  what  would  they  then  have  done  ?  Dyce 


to  JBljUatfter  329 

noted  that  Mason's  change  had  been  already  made  in  the  alteration 
of  the  play  called  the  Restauration. 

285,  30.  the  firver  of  the  Sirian  starre.  The  heat 
supposedly  caused  by  the  dog-star  Sirius.  Cf.  the  Maid's  Tragedy, 
note,  86,  55. 

287,  56.  saffron.  Hymen  appeared  in  saffron-colored  robes 
in  the  masques. 

289,   109.    Fearing.    Fearing  for. 

292,   148-49.    silkes  only  be  worne  before  sore 

eyes.  Daniel  quotes,  "green  sarcenet  flaps  for  a  sore  eye." 
Troilus  and  Cressida,  v,  i,  36. 

292,  149.  false  lights.  Dyce  quotes  an  illustrative  passage 
from  Middleton's  Michaelmas  Term,  i,  i,  where  the  woollen-draper 
Quomodo  addresses  an  assistant  spirit  named  Falselight : 

Go,  make  my  coarse  commodities  look  sleek ; 

With  subtle  art  beguile  the  honest  eye ; 

Be  near  to  my  trap-window,  cunning  Falselight. 

292,  157.   goatish  Latine.    Dyce  quotes  from  Hermann! 
Bulgaria:   "The  ranke  savour  of  gates  is  applied  to  them  that 
will  not  come  out  of  theyr  baudy  [i.  e.  foul,  barbarous]  /atyn." 

293,  174-175.  out  of  your  walls.    Outside  of  your  shops. 
296,   8.   my  ding-dongs.    My  hearties,  my  darlings. 
296,  9.  My  paires  of  deere  indentures,  kings  of 

clubs.  Allusions  to  the  indentures  by  which  the  apprentices  were 
bound,  and  to  clubs,  their  favorite  weapons. 

296,  10.  cold  water  chamblets.  Camlets,  rich  fabrics 
of  wool  or  silk  with  a  wavy,  watery  appearance. 

296,10-11.  paintings,  Spitted  with  copper.  Painted 
or  colored  cloths  interstitched  with  copper. 

296,  ii.  hasty  silks.  Silks  and  velvets  were  stiffened  with 
gum  to  make  them  look  shiny,  but  in  consequence  the  stuff  wore 
out  quickly.  See  note,  301,  99-100. 

296,  12.  branch 'd  cloth  of  bodkin.  Embroidered  cloth 
of  gold  and  silk. 

296,  14.  You  Robin  Hoods,  Scarlets,  and  Johns. 
The  captain  applies  to  his  followers  the  names  of  the  heroes  of  the 
Robin  Hood  ballads. 

296,  1 6.   your  three-piled  spirits,  your  wrought 


33°  jpotes  to 

valors.  Three-piled  was  applied  to  the  best  velvet,  and  so  meta- 
phorically to  the  shop-keepers.  Valors  is  used  with  a  quibble  on 
"  velure  "  or  "valure,"  velvet. 

296,  17.  your  uncut  collers.  A  quibble  on  collar  and 
choler. 

296,  19.  my  rose-nobles.   Another  pun. 

297,  22-24.  That  will   not  strike   .    .    .    and   cry 
Cockles.    That  will  not  yield  to  an  inferior  vessel,  and  let  a  man 
of  war  lie  inactive  and  in  base  service.    Foist  is  a  small  vessel,  used, 
perhaps,  as  Weber  remarks,  with  application  to  Pharamond  and 
allusion  to  the  Lord  Mayor's  gorgeous  galley-foist.     To  cry  cockles 
here  seems  to  mean,  "  to  engage  in  base  traffic  "  ;  and  to  be  syn- 
onymous with  "  to  carry  coales  "   of  Qi.    Dyce,  however,  notes 
that  according   to  Grose  (  Class.  Diet,  of  the  Vulgar  Tongue)  cry 
cockles  means  "to  be  hanged."    If  this  is  the  meaning  here,  the 
captain  mixes  his  metaphors  and  refers  to  the  interrupted  execution 
of  Philaster. 

297,  28.  solder'd  crowne.  Solder'd  head  ;  but  why  soldered 
is  not  clear.  Qi  has  sodden. 

297,  *9-   musket.   A  quibble  on  the  double  meaning  (i)  a 
male  sparrowhawk,  (2)  the  weapon. 

297>  36.  hulke.  Boas  notes  that  "  hulk,  to  take  entrails  out 
of,  is  preferable  to  Aock,  hough,  or  hamstring,  which  could  scarcely 
be  used  of  a  hare." 

298,  46.    Oh  for  a  whip  to  make  him   galloone- 
laces  !    O  for  a  whip  to  tear  him  to  ribbons  !    The  captain's  rant 
is  more  or  less  consistent  in  its  metaphors.    Having  cut,  embroid- 
ered, and  ravelled  Pharamond,  he  would  whip  him  until  he  was 
mere  ribbons  of  lace. 

298,  50-51.  seald  up,  With  a  feather  through  his 
nose.  Seeled  (misspelt  in  the  text)  is  a  term  in  falconry.  When 
a  hawk  was  first  taken,  a  thread  or  small  feather  was  run  through 
its  eyelids,  so  that  it  could  see  little  or  nothing.  Putting  the  feather 
through  the  nose  seems  to  have  been  a  humorous  amendment  of 
the  captain's. 

299>  55-  Thou  tender  heire  apparant  to  a  church- 
ale.  In  view  of  the  character  attributed  to  these  convivial  occa- 
sions, this  is  equivalent  to  calling  Pharamond  a  bastard,  and  a  base 
one  at  that. 


to  pilaster  331 


299,  56.  prince  of  single  scarcenet.   Daniel  quotes  "  A 

king  of  shreds  and  patches."    Hamlet,  HI,  iv,  102,. 

299,  66-67.   lie  .  .  .   gate.    An  allusion  to  Brasenose  Col- 
lege, Oxford. 

300,  85.  royall  Rosicleere.   Rosicleer  and  his  brother  Don- 
zel  de  Phebo  (mentioned  in  1.  92),  knight  of  the  sun,  are  heroes 
in  the  Spanish  romance  Donxel  de  Phebo,  translated  into  English, 
158  3-1  602,  under  the  title  of  the  Mirrour  of  Knighthood,  etc.    The 
Mirrour  was  a  popular  book  and  is  frequently  referred  to  by  the  early 
dramatists.    It  is  referred  to  in  the  Scornful  Lady,  iv,   i,  and  is 
constantly  scoffed  at  and  burlesqued  in  the  Knight  of  the  Burning 
Pestle. 

301,  99-100.   the  regarded  scarlets   Kiss  theire 

gum'd  gols.  The  respected  officers  of  state,  clothed  in  scarlet, 
kiss  their  perfumed  hands.  Golli  is  a  vulgar  term  for  hands,  and 
gummed  seems  to  refer  to  the  application  of  gum  for  perfume 
or  bleaching.  Daniel  thinks  gummed  is  used  in  the  sense  of  cor- 
rupted, and  quotes  from  the  Woman  Hater,  iv,  ii,  "  She  's  a  piece 
of  dainty  stuff,  my  rogue  ;  smooth  and  soft  as  new  satin  5  she  was 
never  gummed  yet,  boy,  nor  fretted,"  where  the  metaphorical  use 
of  the  word  is  quite  different  from  its  use  in  the  present  passage. 
Cf.  i  Henry  IV,  11,  ii,  "  I  have  removed  Falstaff's  horse,  and  he 
frets  like  a  gummed  velvet"  j  and  hasty  silks,  v,  iv,  1  1,  and 
note  for  296,  1  1  . 

302,  124-25.    He  have  a  sursingle  and  make  you 
like  a  hawke.    I  '11  have  a  girth  or  band  and  train  you  like  a 
hawk.    Make  was  a  technical  term  in  falconry  meaning  "  to  train, 
to  make  obedient."    "  Mail  "  (F,  male)  was  also  a  technical  term 
meaning  "  to  pinion,  to  wrap  in  a  cloth,"  but  there  seems  no  rea- 
son for  its  adoption  here  by  modern  editors. 

303,  142.  your  wives  in  muffes.     One  of  the  earliest 
allusions  in  literature  to  muffs,  then  just  coming  into  use. 

307,  59.  will  sadly  be  denyed.  Will  be  very  sorry  to  be 
denied. 

310,  no.  Or  else  her  murderer.  "It  was  the  received 
opinion  in  some  barbarous  countries  that  the  murderer  was  to  in- 
herit the  qualities  and  shape  of  the  person  he  destroyed."  Mason. 


The  place  of  publication  is  London  unless  otherwise  indicated. 
The  abbreviations  to  the  left  of  the  titles  are  those  used  in  the 
Textual  Notes. 

I.  TEXTS 

A.     COLLECTIVE  EDITIONS  OF  BEAUMONT  AND 
FLETCHER 

1647.  COMEDIES  AND  TRAGEDIES  WRITTEN  BY  FRANCIS 
BEAUMONT  AND  JOHN  FLETCHER,  GENTLEMEN.  Never  printed 
before,  And  now  published  by  the  authours  originall  copies  .  .  . 
for  Humphrey  Robinson  .  .  .  and  for  Humphrey  Moseley. 
[This,  the  first  Folio,  contained  neither  the  Maid's  Tragedy  nor 
PAilaster,  but  all  the  plays,  34,  and  one  Masque,  not  previously 
printed  except  the  Wild  Goose  CAase.~\ 

1679.  (F. )  FIFTY  COMEDIES  AND  TRAGEDIES.  Written  by 
Francis  Beaumont  and  John  Fletcher,  Gentlemen.  All  in  one 
volume.  Published  by  the  authors  original  copies,  the  songs  to  each 
play  being  added  ...  for  John  Martyn,  Henry  Herringman, 
Richard  Marriot.  [This,  the  second  Folio,  contains  all  the  plays 
of  the  first  Folio,  and  eighteen  others.] 

1711.  8°.  THE  WORKS  OF  BEAUMONT  AND  FLETCHER  IN 
SEVEN  VOLUMES.  Adorned  with  cuts  ...  for  Jacob  Tonson. 

1750.  8°.  (Th. )  THE  WORKS  or  BEAUMONT  AND  FLETCHER. 
Collated  with  all  the  former  editions  and  corrected.  With  notes 
critical  and  explanatory.  By  the  late  Mr.  Theobald,  Mr.  Seward 
.  .  .  and  Mr.  Sympson.  10  vols. 

1778.  8°.  THE  DRAMATICS  WORKS  or  BEAUMONT  AND 
FLETCHER  .  .  .  adorned  with  54  original  engravings.  [Ed.  by 
George  Colman.]  10  vols. 

l8ll.   8°.    THE    DRAMATIC  WORKS  or   BEN  JONSON,   AND 


333 

BEAUMONT  AND  FLETCHER.  .  .  .  The  latter  from  the  text  and 
with  the  notes  of  G.  Colman.  4  vols. 

I8l2.  8°.  (W.)  THE  WORKS  OF  BEAUMONT  AND  FLETCHER 
...  by  Henry  Weber,  Esq.  Edinburgh.  14  vols. 

1839.  8°.  THE  WORKS  OF  BEAUMONT  AND  FLETCHER.  With 
an  introduction  by  George  Darley.  2  vols.  [Text  is  Weber's, 
1812.] 

1843-6.  (D. )  8°.  THE  WORKS  OF  BEAUMONT  AND  FLETCHER 
...  by  the  Rev.  Alexander  Dyce.  1 1  vols. 

1852.  8°.  THE  WORKS  OF  BEAUMONT  AND  FLETCHER  .  .  . 
by  the  Rev.  Alexander  Dyce.  Boston.  2  vols. 

1866.  8°.  THE  WORKS  OF  BEAUMONT  AND  FLETCHER.  With 
an  introduction  by  George  Darley.  A  new  edition.  Routledge 
and  Sons.  2  vols. 

1904-.  (B. )  THE  WORKS  OF  FRANCIS  BEAUMONT  AND  JOHN 
FLETCHER.  Variorum  edition.  [Ed.  A.  H.  Bullen.]  Vol.  i  con- 
tains :  The  Maid's  Tragedy,  Philaster,  —  edited  by  P.  A. 
Daniel  ;  A  King  and  No  King,  the  Scornful  Lady,  the  Custom 
of  the  Country,  — edited  by  R.  Warwick  Bond. 

B.   SELECTIONS 

1768.  12°.  SELECT  PLAYS  OF  BEAUMONT  AND  FLETCHER. 
Glasgow.  2  vols. 

1808.  8°.  BEAUMONT'S  UNO  FLETCHER'S  DRAMATISCHE 
WERKE  herausgegeben  von  K.  L.  Kannegiesser.  Berlin.  2  vols. 

1808,  1813,  etc.  SPECIMENS  OF  ENGLISH  DRAMATIC  POETS, 
who  lived  about  the  time  of  Shakespeare  :  with  notes.  By  Charles 
Lamb.  [Contains  selections  from  die  Maid's  Tragedy,  Philaster, 
and  other  plays  of  Folios.  ] 

l8ll.  8°.  THE  MODERN  BRITISH  DRAMA.  [Ed.  by  Sir  Wal- 
ter Scott.]  5  vols.  [This  contains  the  Maid's  Tragedy,  Philaster, 
and  seven  other  plays  from  Folios.] 

1819.  SPECIMENS  or  THE  BRITISH  POETS.  .  .  .  Thomas 
Campbell.  7  vols.  [Contains  selections  from  the  Maid's  Tragedy, 
Philaster,  and  other  plays  from  Folios.] 

1834.  BEAUTIES  OF  BEAUMONT  AND  FLETCHER.  By  H.  Guil- 
ford.  Birmingham. 


334 

1855.  BEAUMONT  AND  FLETCHER  ;  or,  The  finest  scenes, 
lyrics,  and  other  beauties  ...  to  the  exclusion  of  whatever  is 
morally  objectionable  .  .  .  with  opinions  of  distinguished  critics, 
notes  .  .  .  and  a  general  introductory  preface.  By  Leigh  Hunt. 

1865.        CONTEMPORAINS        DE       SHAKESPEARE.        Beaumont      Ct 

Fletcher,  traduits  par  Ernest  Lafond.  Paris.  [This  contains  four 
plays,  but  neither  the  Maid' s  Tragedy  nor  PAi/aster.] 

1887.  THE  BEST  PLAYS  OF  THE  OLD  DRAMATISTS.  Beau- 
mont and  Fletcher.  Edited  by  J.  St.  Loe  Strachey.  a  vols. 
(Mermaid  Series.)  [Vol.  I  contains  the  Maid's  Tragedy,  Philas- 
ter,  and  three  other  plays.] 

1887.  THE  PLAYS  OF  BEAUMONT  AND  FLETCHER  (SELECTED). 
Introduction  by  J.  S.  Fletcher.  (  The  Canterbury  Poets.  ) 

C.    SEPARATE  PLAYS 
THE  MAID'S  TRAGEDY 

1619.  (Si-)  THE  MAIDES  TRAGEDY.  As  it  hath  beene 
diuers  times  Acted  at  the  Blacke-friers  by  the  Kings  Majesties  Ser- 
uants.  London  Printed  for  Francis  Constable  and  are  to  be  sold 
at  the  white  Lyon  ouer  against  the  great  North  doore  of  Pauls 
church.  [Bodleian,  Dyce,  Boston  Public  Library.] 

l622.  (22-)  THE  MAIDS  TRAGEDIE.  As  it  hath  beene 
diuers  times  Acted  at  the  Black-Friers  by  the  Kings  Maiesties  Ser- 
uants.  Newly  perused,  augmented,  and  inlarged.  This  second  im- 
pression. London.  Printed  for  Francis  Constable,  and  are  to  be 
sold  at  the  White  Lion  in  Pauls  Church-yard.  [Brit.  Mus.  644. 
d.  6,  Bodl.,  Dyce,  B.  P.  L.] 

1630.  (23-)  THE  MAIDS  TRAGEDIE.  Written  by  Francis 
Beaumont  and  John  Fletcher,  Gentlemen.  The  Third  Impression. 
Reuised  and  Refined.  ...  for  Richard  Hawkins.  [B.  M. 
1346.  a.  7,  Bodl.,  Dyce,  B.  P.  L.] 

1638.  (24-)  •  •  •  THE  MAIDES  TRAGEDIE  .  .  .  The 
fourth  Impression  ...  for  Henry  Shepherd.  [B.  M.  644.  d.  7, 
Bodl. ,  Dyce,  University  Library,  Cambridge,  Eng. ,  Trinity  Col- 
lege, Cambridge,  Eng.] 

1641.  (2S-)  THE  MAIDS  TRAGEDIE  .  .  .  The  fifth  Im- 
pression ...  for  William  Leake.  [B.  M.  644.  d.  8,  B.  P.  L.] 


335 

1650.  (Q6.)  THE  MAIDS  TRAGEDY  .  .  .  The  sixth  Im- 
pression. Revised  and  Corrected  exactly  by  the  Original  ...  for 
William  Leake.  [B.  M.  644.  d.  9,  B.  P.  L.] 

[These  six  quartos  all  have  a  wood-cut  on  the  title-page.] 

1661.  (Q7-)  THE  MAIDS  TRAGEDY.  Sixth  Impression. 
[In  place  of  the  publisher's  name  this  has  only]  Printed  in  the  Year 
1 66 1.  [B.  M.  644.  d.  10,  Bodl.,  Dyce,  Harv.  Coll.  Lib.] 

1686.  4°.    THE  MAIDS  TRAGEDY.    As  it  hath  been  acted  at 
the  Theatre  Royal. 

1704.  4°.    THE  MAIDS  TRAGEDY. 
1717.  4°.    THE  MAID'S  TRAGEDY. 

1881-84.  THE  MAID'S  TRAGEDY.  No.  18  of  The  English 
Library,  Zurich. 

PHILASTER 

1620.  (Qi.)  PHYLASTER.  OR,  LOVE  LYES  A  BLEEDING.  Acted 
at  the  Globe  by  his  Maiesties  Seruants.  Written  by  Francis  Bay- 
mont  and  John  Fletcher  Gent.  Printed  at  London  for  Thomas 
Walkley,  and  are  to  be  sold  at  his  shop  at  the  Eagle  and  Child. 
[Wood-cut  on  tide-page.  B.  M.  (C.  34.  f.  31,)  Bodl.,  Dyce.] 

1622.  (Q2.)  PHILASTER  .  .  .  The  Second  Impression,  cor- 
rected and  amended.  [B.  M.  (C.  34.  c.  4.)  Bodl.,  Dyce.] 

1628.  (Q3-)  PHILASTER  .  .  .  The  Third  Impression  .  .  . 
for  Richard  Hawkins.  [B.  M.  1346.  a.  6.  Bodl.,  Dyce.] 

1634.  (Q4,  '34-)  PHILASTER  .  .  .  The  Fourth  Impression. 
[B.  M.  644.  d.  19.  Dyce  B.  P.  L.] 

I&39-  (24>'39-)  PHILASTER  .  .  .  The  Fourth  Impression 
...  for  William  Leake.  [B.  M.  644.  d.  zo.  Bodl.,  T.  C.  C., 
B.  P.  L.] 

1652.  (Qsa.)  PHILASTER  .  .  .  The  Fifth  Impression.  [Or- 
nament, two  rows  of  small  fleur-de-lis.  B.  P.  L.,  H.  C.  L.] 

1652.  (Qsb.)  PHILASTER  .  .  .  The  Fifth  Impression.  [But 
distinct  from  ^53,  and  having  for  ornament  a  crown.  On  back 
of  title-page,  it  has  a  list  of  books  sold  by  Leake.  B.  P.  L.] 

1663  ?(Q6.)  PHILASTER  .  .  .  The  Sixth  Impression.  [Not 
dated,  but  list  of  books  "lately  come  forth"  fixes  the  date  as 
1663.  B.  M.  643.  g.  23.  Bodl.,  B.  P.  L.] 

1687.  4°.   PHILASTER. 


336 

1717.  4°.    PHILASTER. 

1870.  PHILASTER.  In  the  Works  of  the  British  Dramatists, 
etc.  ByJ.  S.  Keltic. 

1892.  PHILASTER.  Expurgated.  In  the  Best  Elizabethan 
Plays.  Ed.  by  W.  R.  Thayer.  Boston. 

1898.  PHILASTER.  Ed.  Frederick  S.  Boas.  The  Temple  Dra- 
matists. 


D.  ADAPTATIONS,    ALTERATIONS,  AND   TRANS- 
LATIONS 

THE  MAID'S  TRAGEDY 

1672.  THE  TESTY  LORD.  In  the  Wits,  or,  Sport  upon  Sport. 
[A  droll  based  on  Calianax  scene  in  the  Maid's  Tragedy.] 

1690.  THE  SECOND  PART  or  MR.  WALLER'S  POEMS.  This 
contains  a  new  fifth  act  of  the  Maid's  Tragedy. 

1690.  THE  MAID'S  TRAGEDY  [i.  e.  its  fifth  act]  altered. 
With  some  other  pieces.  By  Edmund  Waller,  Esq.  [A  different 
version  from  the  preceding.] 

1746.  LA  PUCELLE.  Tragedie  en  un  acte  par  Fletcher.  Le 
Theatre  Anglais.  Vol.  4. 

1765.  DIE  BRAUT,  eine  tragodie.  Translated  into  German 
prose  by  H.  W.  von  Gerstenberg.  Kopenhagen  und  Leipzig. 

[  ?  ]  THE  BRIDAL.  A  tragedy  in  five  acts,  adapted  for  repre- 
sentation (with  three  original  scenes,  written  by  James  Sheridan 
Knowles,  Esq. )  from  The  Maid's  Tragedy  of  Beaumont  and 
Fletcher.  As  performed  by  Mr.  Macready.  New  York.  Wil- 
liam Taylor  &  Co.  [Not  dated.] 

[The  Bridal  is  also  in  vol.   6  of  the  Modern  Standard  Drama. 
New  York.    Samuel  French.    Not  dated.] 

PHILASTER 

1695.  PHILASTER.  Revised  and  the  two  last  acts  new  written 
by  E.  Settle. 

1714.  THE  RESTAURATION:  OR,  RIGHT  WILL  TAKE  PLACE.  By 
George  Villiers,  late  Duke  of  Buckingham.  [In  the  Works  of 


337 

George   Villiers  ;  also  see  editions,  1754,  1775.    An  alteration  of 
Philaster.] 

1763.  PHILASTER.     With  alterations    [and    prologue   by    G. 
Colman.] 

1764.  PHILASTER.   With  alterations  [by  G.  Colman].  Second 
edition. 

I777<  PHILASTER.  A  tragedy.  With  alterations.  [In  Dramatic 
Works  of  G.  Colman,  vol.  3.] 

1780.    PHILASTER.   Altered  ...    [by  G.  Colman.] 

1791.  PHILASTER.  A  tragedy.  As  altered  .  .  .  Adapted  for 
theatrical  representation.  [In  Self's  British  Theatre,  vol.  1 8.] 

[?]  PHILASTER.  ODER  DIE  LIEBE  BLUTET.  Deutsch  von  Adolf 
Seubert.  n.  d.  Leipzig.  Uni-versal-Bibliothek,  band  1169. 


II.  WORKS    BIOGRAPHICAL  AND 
CRITICAL 

Besides  monographs  and  essays  devoted  especially  to  PHILASTER 
and  the  MAID'S  TRAGEDY,  this  list  includes  such  general  ivorks 
on  the  drama  and  on  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  as  are  likely  to  prove 
useful  to  the  student  or  the  general  reader.  See  also  the  memoirs  and 
critical  matter  in  the  editions  of  the  texts  included  in  the  preceding 
Kits. 

1664.  A  SHORT  DISCOURSE  ON  THE  ENGLISH  STAGE,  in  Love's 
Kingdom,  a  pastoral  tragi-comedy,  Richard  Flecknoe.  Reprinted 
in  the  English  Drama  and  Stage  under  the  Tudor  and  Stuart 
Princes,  1353-1664,  edited  by  W.  C.  Hazlitt,  Roxburghe  library, 
1869.  pp.  275-181. 

1668.  AN  ESSAY  OF  DRAMATIC  POESY,  John  Dryden.  Works 
of  Dryden,  ed.  Scott-Saintsbury,  xv,  282  ff. 

1668.  A  DEFENCE  OF  AN  ESSAY  ON  DRAMATIC  POESY,  John 
Dryden.  Works  of  Dryden,  ed.  Scott-Saintsbury,  n,  290. 

1678.  THE  TRAGEDIES  OF  THE  LAST  AGE,  CONSIDER' D  AND  EX- 
AMIN'D,  BY  THE  PRACTICE  OF  THE  ANCIENTS,  AND  BY  THE  COMMON 
SENSE  OF  ALL  AGES  :  IN  A  LETTER  TO  FLEETWOOD  SHEPHERD,  Esg. , 


338 

Thomas  Rymer.  [Contains  criticisms  on  the  Maid's  Tragedy,  Ro//ot 
and  A  King  and  No  King.]  Second  Edition,  1692. 

1679-  THE  GROUNDS  OF  CRITICISM  IN  TRAGEDY  (An  Answer 
to  Rymer) ,  John  Dryden.  Works  of  Dryden,  ed.  Scott-Saintsbury, 
vi,  260-283. 

1691.  AN  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  ENGLISH  DRAMATIC  POETS, 
Gerard  Langbaine.  Reedited  as  THE  LIVES  OF  THE  POETS,  by 
Charles  Gildon,  1698;  THE  COMPANION  TO  THE  PLAYHOUSE, 
by  David  Baker,  1764;  BIOGRAPHIA  DRAMATICA,  by  Isaac  Reed, 
1782,  and  by  Stephen  Jones,  1812. 

I7S3-  THE  LIVES  OF  THE  POETS  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN  AND 
IRELAND,  Theophilus  Gibber  and  Robert  Shiels.  I,  154-164. 

1797.  COMMENTS  ON  THE  PLAYS  OF  BEAUMONT  AND  FLETCHER, 
J.  Monck  Mason. 

l8ll.  USER  DRAMATISCHE  KUNST  UNO  LITERATUR,  A.  W. 
Schlegel.  Vol.  2,  Part  2,  pp.  288-306.  Heidelberg.  Translated 
by  John  Black  as  LECTURES  ON  DRAMATIC  ART  AND  LITERATURE, 
Philadelphia,  1833. 

1814.  EXPLANATIONS  AND  EMENDATIONS  OF  SOME  PASSAGES  IN 
THE  TEXT  OF  SHAKESPEARE  AND  OF  BEAUMONT  AND  FLETCHER, 
Martinus  Scriblerus  \_pseud.~\.  Edinburgh. 

1821.  LECTURES  ON  THE  DRAMATIC  LITERATURE  OF  THE  AGE 
OF  ELIZABETH,  William  Hazlitt.  pp.  86-101. 

1831.  BEITRAGE  zu  EINER  GENAUERN  VERGLEICHUNG  SHAKS- 
PEARE'S   MIT    BEAUMONT  UNO    FLETCHER,  Franz   Horn.    Shaks- 
peare's  Schauspiele,  v,  34—72.    Leipzig. 

1832.  SOME   ACCOUNT  OF  THE  ENGLISH   STAGE,  FROM  THE 
RESTORATION  TO  1830,  J.  Genest.    lovols.    [For  numerous  notes 
on  the  plays,  see  under  their  names  in  the  index,  vol.  I.] 

1833.  A  LETTER  ON  SHAKESPEARE'S  AUTHORSHIP  OF  THE  Two 
NOBLE    KINSMEN  ;    A    DRAMA    COMMONLY    ASSIGNED    TO   JOHN 
FLETCHER,  William  Spaulding,  Edinburgh.    A  NEW  EDITION,  WITH 

A   LIFE  OF  THE  AUTHOR     BY    JOHN     HlLL    BURTON,    NeiV     Skakspere 

Society,  1876. 

1836.  NOTES  ON  BEAUMONT  AND  FLETCHER,  Samuel  Taylor 
Coleridge.  The  Literary  Remains  of  S.  T.  Coleridge,  collected  and 
edited  by  H.  N.  Coleridge,  11,  289-322.  Also  in  the  Complete 
Work*  ofS.  T.  Coleridge,  edited  by  Prof.  Sheddj  New  York,  1853; 


339 

IV,  199—120.  And  in  Lectures  and  Notes  on  Shaksperc  and 
other  English  Poets,  by  S.  T.  Coleridge  ;  now  first  collected  by 
T.  Ashe,  1883.  pp.  395-407;  425-451.  [See  the  Index  for 
references  to  various  comments  on  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  from 
Table  Talk  and  elsewhere.] 

1 837.  LIVES  OF  THE  MOST  EMINENT  LITERARY  AND  SCIENTIFIC 
MEN  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN,  Dramatists,  Robert  Bell  and  S.  A. 
Dunham.  I,  203—251. 

1839.  INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  LITERATURE  or  EUROPE  IN  THE 
I5TH,  i6TH,   AND  i  jTH  CENTURIES,   Henry  Hallam.    HI,   337— 
351.    [Various  later  editions.] 

1840.  REVIEW  OF  DARLEY'S  EDITION,  "  Adversaria,  no.  m, 
Peter-see-mee,"  Eraser's  Magazine,   August,  1840,  xxn,    189— 
192.  Also  reviewed  in  American  Whig  Re-view,  July  and  August, 
1846,  iv,  68-80,  131-146. 

1841.  BEAUMONT  AND  FLETCHER  AND  THEIR  CONTEMPORA- 
RIES, [William  Spaulding,]  Edinburgh  Re-view,  April,  LXXIII,  209- 
141. 

1846.  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  PRINCIPAL  ACTORS  IN  THE  PLAYS  or 
SHAKESPEARE,  J.  P.  Collier,  Shakespeare  Society  Publications. 

1847.  REVIEW  OF  DYCE'S  EDITION,  Edinburgh  Re-view,  July, 
LXXXVI,  42—67  ;   Eclectic   Magazine,    October  ;   Littelf  s   Li-ving 

•4T'.  XIV,  385- 

1847.  "  SALMACIS  AND  HERMAPHRODITUS,"  NOT  BY  FRANCIS 
BEAUMONT:  the  edition  of  1602,  Uramaticus  \_pseud.~\.  The 
Shakespeare  Society's  Papers,  HI,  94-126. 

1847.  THE  SHARES   OF   SHAKSPERE  AND   FLETCHER  IN  THE 
Two  NOBLE  KINSMEN,  Samuel  Hickson,    Westminster  and  Foreign 
Quarterly  Re-view,  April,  XLVII,  59-88.    Reprinted,  with  a  con- 
firmation by  F.  G.  Fleay,  in  New  Shakspere  Society's  Transactions, 
1874. 

1848.  DYCE'S  AND   DARLEY'S  EDITIONS,   Quarterly  Re-view, 
Sept.  1848,  LXXXIII,  377-418. 

1850.  BEAUMONT  AND  FLETCHER,  William  B.  Donne,  Fraser's 
Magazine,  March,  XLI,  321-332.  Reprinted  in  ESSAYS  ON  THE 
DRAMA  AND  ON  POPULAR  AMUSEMENTS;  Second  edition,  1863, 
pp.  34-66. 

1850.   ON  THE  SEVERAL  SHARES  OF  SHAKSPERE  AND  FLETCHER 


340 

IN  THE  PLAT  or  HENRY  VIII,  James  Spedding,  the  Gentleman's 
Magazine,  Aug.  and  Oct.  1850,  new  series,  xxxiv,  115-123, 
381—382.  Also  in  New  Shakspere  Society's  Transactions,  1874. 

1856.  CURSORY  NOTES  ON  VARIOUS  PASSAGES  IN  THE  TEXT  OF 
BEAUMONT  AND  FLETCHER,  AS  EDITED  BY  THE  REV.  ALEXANDER 
DYCE,  etc. ,  John  Mitford. 

1 856.  STUDIEN  USER  DAS  ENGLISCRE  THEATER,  V,  FLETCHER, 
Moritz  Rapp,  Archi-v  fur  das  Studium  der  neuern  Sprachen  und 
Literaturen,  xx,  1—37. 

1858.  CYCLOPEDIA  or  ENGLISH  LITERATURE,  William  and 
Robert  Chambers,  1858,  I,  218-225.  Revised  Edition,  1901,  I, 
468-478. 

1864.      CoNTEMPORAINS     ET    SUCCESSEURS      DE      SHAKESPEARE, 

Alfred  Mezieres.    2d  Edition,  n,  21— 211.    Paris. 

1864.  SHAKESPEARE  AND  JONSON.  DRAMATIC  VERSUS  WIT- 
COMBATS.  AUXILIARY  FORCES:  BEAUMONT  AND  FLETCHER,  MAR- 
STON,  DECKER,  CHAPMAN,  AND  WEBSTER.  Unsigned. 

1869.  THE  LITERATURE  OF  THE  AGE  OF  ELIZABETH,  E.  P. 
Whipple,  pp.  157-177.  Boston. 

1871.  ON  THE  COMIC  WRITERS  or  ENGLAND,  m,  BEAUMONT 
AND  FLETCHER.  Charles  Cowden  Clarke,  Gentleman's  Magazine, 
June.  Entirely  New  Series,  vn,  27—48. 

1874.  FLETCHER  AND  BEAUMONT,  Unsigned,  Temple  Bar, 
Nov.,  XLII,  460—471. 

1874.  ON  METRICAL  TESTS  AS  APPLIED  TO  DRAMATIC  PO- 
ETRY, F.  G.  Fleay.  PART  n.  FLETCHER,  BEAUMONT,  MASSINGER, 

WITH  ILLUSTRATIVE  PASSAGES    AND    A    DISCUSSION.      New  Shakspere 

Society's  Transactions,  pp.  51-84.  Also  in  Shakspere  Manual, 
1876,  pp.  151-174- 

1875-  A  HISTORY  OF  ENGLISH  DRAMATIC  LITERATURE  TO  THE 
DEATH  OF  QUEEN  ANNE,  A.  W.  Ward,  2  vols.,  n,  155—248. 
Revised  ed.,  3  vols.,  1899,  n,  643-763. 

1875-  A  NOTE  ON  CERVANTES  AND  BEAUMONT  AND  FLETCHER, 
C.  J.,  Fraser's  Magazine,  May,  xci,  592—597. 

1876.  BEAUMONT  AND  FLETCHER,  Unsigned,  National  £)uar- 
ter/y  Review,  Sept.,  xxxiu,  302—330. 

1 879.  HISTORY  OF  ENGLISH  DRAMATIC  POETBY,  etc. ,  J.  P. 
Collier.  3  voli. 


341 

1881-1887.  BEAUMONT,  FLETCHER,  AND  MASSINGER,  Robert 
Boyle,  Englische  Studien, — v,  74-96;  vn,  66—87;  VIII>  39~6i; 
ix,  209-239;  x,  380—412.  See  vols.  v  and  vn  for  Philaster  and 
the  Maid''!  Tragedy. 

1883.  FRANCIS    BEAUMONT:    A   CRITICAL    STUDY,    G.    C. 
Macaulay.      Reviewed    in    the  Athenaum,    Feb.    2,    1884  j    the 
Academy,  Dec.  22,  1883  ;  the  Spectator,  Aug.  2,  1884. 

1884.  CHAPTERS   IN  THE  HISTORY   or  ENGLISH  LITERATURE 

FROM     1 509    TO    THE    CLOSE  OF  THE    ELIZABETHAN  PERIOD,   Ellen 

Crofts,  ch.  9,  pp.  258-283. 

1885*  FRANCIS  BEAUMONT,  A.  B.  Grosart,  Dictionary  of 
National  Biography. 

1 885.  ON  THE  CHRONOLOGY  OF  THE  PLAYS  OF  FLETCHER  AND 
MASSINGER,  F.  G.  Fleay,  Englische  Studien,  1885-6,  ix,  12-35. 
[The  substance  of  this  paper  is  embodied  in  the  author's  Chronicle 
of  the  English  Drama,  1891,  q.  v.~\ 

1885-  USER  BEZIEHUNGEN  VON  BEAUMONT  UNO  FLETCHER'S 
PHILASTER,  OR  LOVE  LIES  A-BLEEDING,  zu  SHAKESPEARE'S 
HAMLET  UNO  CYMBELINE,  B.  Leonhardt,  Anglia,  vm,  424— 

447- 

1886.  BEAUMONT,  FLETCHER,  AND  MASSINGER,  Robert  Boyle, 
pp.    579-628.     [A  summary  of  papers  under  the  same  title  in 
Englische  Studien,  1881-87.] 

1886.  GESCHICHTE  DES  DRAMAS,  J.  L.  Klein.  13  vols. 
English  drama,  vols.  12,  13.  Leipsic. 

1886.  SOME   ETHICAL    ASPECTS    OF    LATER    ELIZABETHAN 
TRAGEDY,  J.  Rose  Colby.    Dissertation,  pp.  23-37,  University  of 
Michigan,  Ann  Arbor. 

1887.  BEAUMONT   AND   FLETCHER,    Algernon  Charles  Swin- 
burne, Encyclopedia  Britannica,  9th  ed.,  in,  469-474. 

1887.  A  HISTORY  OF  ELIZABETHAN  LITERATURE,  George 
Saintsbury,  pp.  254—266. 

1889.  JOHN  FLETCHER,  A.  H.  Bullen,  Dictionary  of  National 
Biography. 

1890.  A  BIBLIOGRAPHY  OF  BEAUMONT  AND  FLETCHER,  Alfred 
C.  Potter,  Bibliographical  Contributions,  Library  of  Harvard  Uni- 
versity, no.  39.    Cambridge,  U.  S.  A. 

1890-92.  THE  WORKS  OF  BEAUMONT  AND  FLETCHER,  E.  F. 


342 

Oliphant,   Englische    Studien  ;  xiv,   53-94;  xv,   3*1-360;  xvi, 
180-200.    See  vol.  xiv  for  Philaster  and  the  Maid's  Tragedy. 

1891.  A  BIOGRAPHICAL  CHRONICLE  OF  THE  ENGLISH  DRAMA, 
F.   G.  Fleay.    2  vols.    Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  i,  164-229. 

1892.  THE  OLD  DRAMATISTS,  James  Russell  Lowell.    Boston. 

1893.  DIE  ENGLISCHEN  DRAMATIKER  VOR,  NEBEN,  UND  NACH, 
SHAKESPEARE,  A.  F.  von  Schack.    Stuttgart. 

1893.   SPANISCHE  QUELLEN  DER  DRAMATISCHEN  LITTERATUR, 

BESONDERS  ENGLANDS  ZU  SHAKESPEARES  ZEIT,    LeO    BahlseD,   Zc'lt- 

tchrift  fur  •vergleichende  Litteraturgeschichte.    Neue  Folge,  vi,  pp. 
151-159.    Berlin-Weimar. 

1895.  QUELLEN-STUDIEN  zu  DEN  DRAMEN  BEN  JONSON'S,  JOHN 
MARSTON'S,    UND   BEAUMONT'S   UND  FLETCHER'S,  Emil  Koeppel, 
Munchener  Beitrdge.    Leipzig. 

1896.  DIE  TEXT-VARIANTEN  VON  BEAUMONT'S  UND  FLETCH- 
ER'S PHILASTER,  etc.,  B.  Leonhardt,  Anglia,  xix,  xx,  xxm,  xxiv, 
xxvi.    Philaster,  xix,  34—74.    Maid's  Tragedy,  xxm,  14-66. 

1896.  THE  OLD  DRAMATISTS,  CONJECTURAL  READINGS,  K. 
Deighton.  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  pp.  30—88. 

1901.  THE  INFLUENCE  OF  BEAUMONT  AND  FLETCHER  ON 
SHAKSPERE,  A.  H.  Thorndike.  Worcester,  Mass. 

1903.  A  HISTORY  OF  ENGLISH  POETRY,  W.  G.   Courthope. 
4  vols.  published,  1895-1903.   iv,  304—348. 

1904.  THE    TEMPER    OF   THE    SEVENTEENTH    CENTURY    IN 
ENGLISH  LITERATURE,  Barrett  Wendell.    New  York. 

1905.  SPANISH  INFLUENCE  ON  ENGLISH  LITERATURE,  Martin 
A.  Hume,  p.  276  ff. 

1905.  JOHN  WEBSTER,  E.  E.  Stoll.  [Contains  a  discussion  of 
the  influence  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  on  Webster.  ]  Cambridge, 
U.  S.  A. 


abusde,  deceived.  P.  in,  i, 
no. 

answerable,  suitable,  con- 
venient. P.  iv,  ii,  36. 

apprehensive,  capable  of 
understanding.  P.  v,  v,  152. 

beaten  (beaten  rocke),  overlaid 

or  inlaid  with  precious  metal. 

M.  T.  i,  ii,  216. 
bill,  a  kind  of  pike,   used  by 

watchmen.    P.  v,  iv,  32. 
blankes,  blank-verses.    P.  n, 

ii,  98. 
bodkin,  baudkin,  a  rich  stuff 

of  gold  and  silk.   P.  v,  iv,  12. 
bowes  (boughs).    M.  T.  i,  ii, 

194. 
branch,  to  form  patterns.     P. 

v,  iv,  12,  42. 
brave,   finely  dressed.     P.  H, 

iv,  28,  etc. 

bravery,  ostentation.    P.  i,  5, 

275- 

bugs,  bugbears,  objects  of  ter- 
ror. P.  i,  i,  245. 

bugs  -  words,  swaggering 
words.  P.  v,  iv,  28. 

Canker,  a  wormy  disease,  a 
corroding  evil.  M.  T.  iv,  i, 
85  ;  v,  i,  76. 

cantharides,  the  dried  Span- 


ish fly,  used  as  a  drug.  P. 
iv,  i,  48. 

Carduus,  a  genus  of  herbs  re- 
sembling the  thistle  and  for- 
merly esteemed  as  a  remedy  for 
all  kinds  of  diseases.  P.  u, 
ii,  42. 

carriage,  baggage.     P.  iv,  i, 

45  ;  behavior.  P.  n,  iv, 
121,  etc 

chamblets,  camlets,  rich  fa- 
brics of  wool  or  silk  with  a 
wavy,  watered  appearance.  P. 
v,  iv,  10. 

Church-ale,  a  convivial  meet- 
ing on  occasion  of  a  church 
festival.  P.  v,  iv,  55. 

Codes,  a  corruption  of  God's. 
M.  T.  i,  ii,  29. 

COg,  cheat,  cajole.  P.  I,  i,  64, 
etc. 

conger,  cucumber.  P.  n,  ii, 
46. 

curious,  scrupulous.  P.  in, 
i,  30. 

Curst,  cross,  shrewish.  P.  n, 
iii,  41. 

dare,   amaze,   terrify.     M.    T. 

iv,  i,  182. 
dazle,  to  be  stupefied.  M.  T. 

iv,  i,  199. 
donsels,  young  gentlemen,  not 


344 


yet  admitted  to  knighthood. 

P.  v,  iv,  61. 
dowcets,  testes.  P.  iv,  ii,  15; 

v,  iv,  6 1. 
duckers,     cringers,     bowers ; 

or,     perhaps,     duck-hunters, 

alluding  to  a  favorite  sport  of 

the  citizens.    P.  v,  iv,  15. 
dullnesse,  sleepiness.     P.  iv, 

iv,  6. 

face,  pretend,  lie  with  effront- 
ery. M,  T.  iv,  i,  54. 

facers,  shameless  persons.  M. 
T.  iv,  ii,  124. 

firker,  a  rouser,  a  fast  one.  P. 
iv,  ii,  30. 

foist,  a  small  vessel.  P.  v,  iv, 
22. 

followers,   pursuers.      P.  iv, 

iv,  33- 
foxe,  a  broad  sword.     P.  iv, 

iii,  132. 
foremen,  cant  name  for  geese. 

P.  v,  iii,  175. 

galloone-laces,  worsted  laces 
woven  in  narrow  ribbon  or 
tape  for  binding.  P.  v,  iv,  46. 

goatish,  rank,  coarse,  barbar- 
ous. P.  v,  iii,  157. 

gols,  gollt,  hands.  P.  v,  iv, 
100. 

hand-wolf,  tamed  wolf.    M. 

T.  iv,  i,  193. 
honest,  chaste.    P.  n,  ii,  5  ; 

iv,  ii,  26. 


hull,  to  lie  inactive  with  no 
sails  set.  P.  v,  iv,  24. 

humane,  human.  M.  T.  m, 
ii,  173. 

humourous,  moody.  M.  T. 
i,  ii,  27. 

inevitable,  irresistible.  M.  T. 

m,  ii,  79. 
ingenious,  ingenuous.  M.  T. 

in,  i,  211. 

jades,  spurns,  maltreats.     P. 
.  i,  i,  19°- 

jag,  cut  or  slash.    P.  v,  iv,  44. 
jealous,  suspicious.     P.  n,  iv, 
1 8,  etc. 

kell,  caule  about  the  hart's 
paunch.  P.  v,  iv,  45. 

kit,  cittern,  a  kind  of  guitar. 
P.  v,  iv,  68. 

layars,  lairs.    P.  v,  iii,  29. 
leg,  a  bow.    P.  i,  i,  87. 
lyme-hound,  a  hound  of  the 

chase  so-called  from  the  lime 
or  leash  by  which  it  was  led. 
P.  iv,  i,  16. 

lodged,  brought  to  covert.  P. 
iv,  ii,  i. 

make,  to  train  a  hawk.    P.  v, 

iv,  125. 
miching,   mitching,    creeping, 

sneaking.     P.  iv,  ii,  20. 
mued,  mewed  up.     P.  v,  iii, 

153- 


345 


murrains,  plagues.   P.  v,  Hi, 

145; 

murrian,  morion,  a  helmet. 
P.  v,  iv,  88. 

phlebotomie,  blood  letting. 
P.  n,  ii,  45. 

physical!,  good  for  the  health. 
P.  iv,  i,  29. 

pickthanks,  a  tale  -  teller, 
"  barbateur,  a  sicophant,  a 
pickthanke,  a  privie  whis- 
perer, a  close  detractor,  a  se- 
cret tale-teller,"  Cotgrave 
(B);  M.  r.III,  i,  2I9. 

pollard,  an  animal,  stag  or  ox, 
without  horns.  P.  v,  iv,  78. 

popping)  ayes,  parrots.  P. 
i,  i,  216. 

presses,  creases.  P.  v,  iii, 
150. 

prevent,  anticipate.  P.  i,  ii, 
199. 

prodigious,  portentous.  P.  ii, 

>v,  175;  v»  »'»  6l- 
piramis,  pyramid.    P.  iv,  iv, 


raskall,  rascal,  a  lean  doe  or 

deer.    P.  iv,  ii,  20. 
readier,     more    ready,     more 

dressed.     M.  T.  HI,  i,  20. 
resolute,  convinced.    M.  T. 

HI,  i,  280. 
resolve,  convince.    P.  n,  iv, 

1  02  ;  am  convinced.    M.  T. 

n,  i,  348. 
rid,  despatch.  M.  T.  n,  i,  327. 


ring-taile,  an  inferior  sort  of 

kite.    P.  v,  iv,  57. 
rose-noble,  gold  coin  stamped 

with  rose.     P.  v,  iv,  19. 
roarer,  roaring  boy,  bully.    P. 

v,  iv,  86. 

SCarcenet,  sarcenet,  soft  silk 
fabric.  P.  v,  iv,  56. 

sea-breach, sea-beach.  M.T. 
ii,  ii,  68  •  irruption  of  the  sea. 
P.  v,  iii,  200. 

servant,  lover,  the  title  con- 
ferred by  ladies  on  their  au- 
thorized admirers.  P.  I,  i, 
124,  etc. 

single,  weak,  feeble.  P.  v, 
iv,  56. 

sounds,  swoons.  M.  T.  v, 
iii,  227. 

SOile,  to  fatten.  P.  v,  iii, 
177. 

Stand,  a  cask  or  the  quantity 
of  liquor  that  it  contains.  P. 
v,  iv,  91. 

stone-bow,  cross-bow  that 
shoots  stones.  P.  iv,  ii,  10. 

Sullen,  dark.     P.  v,  iii,  57. 

sursingle,  band,  girth.  P. 
v,  iv,  124. 

tainted,  affected  in  mind.    P. 

i,  i,  222. 
three -piled,    of  the   finest 

quality  (of  velvet).     P.  v,  iv, 
16. 

tiller,  cross-bow.  P.  n,  ii, 
45- 


346 


timelesse,  untimely.  M.  T.  i, 

ii,  68,  etc. 
Towsabel,  Dowsabel.    P.  n, 

ii,  161. 

toy,  whim.    P.  v,  iii,  139. 
tract,  tracked.    P.  iv,  iv,  51. 
travells,  labors.     P.  i,  i,  1 60. 
troule,  to  sing  a  catch.    P.  v, 

iii,  137. 
turfe,  cover  a  hat  with  fur  or 

silk.    P.  iv,  ii,  1 6. 
turtle,  dove.    P.  i,  i,  219. 

uds,  corruption  for  judge  in  the 
expletive  God's  uds.  P.  iv, 
iii,  97. 

uncollected,  not  having  con- 
trol of  one's  mental  faculties. 
M.  T.  iv,  ii,  315. 

unexprest,  not  to  be  ex- 
i.  M.  T.  m,  ii,  85. 


velvet-head,  the  hart's  horns 
(head)  when  first  appearing 
are  covered  with  russet  pile 
(velvet).  P.  iv,  ii,  1 6. 

venies,  bouts.  P.  iv,  iii,  92. 

vild,  vile  ;  the  tvuo  -words  are 
used  indifferently. 

wasters,  cudgels.  P.  iv,  iii, 
92. 

what-you-lacks,  a  nick- 
name for  shop-keepers  who 
thus  addressed  passers-by.  P. 
v,  iii,  131. 

wildernesse,  wildness.  M.T. 
v,  iii,  150. 

winke,  close  the  eyes.  M.  T. 
m,  i,  272. 

wiper,  a  steel  instrument  for 
cleaning  the  bore  of  a  musket. 
P.  v,  iv,  37. 


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